


The Internet Friend

by defying3reason



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anxiety, Christmas Fluff, Depression, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Pining, Self-Harm, Suicide Notes, body issues, unhealthy relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defying3reason/pseuds/defying3reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Courfeyrac's internet-friends posts a suicide note in a discussion group. Enjolras offers to help find the guy, and finds himself getting much more invested than he'd planned.</p><p>Meanwhile, Combeferre and Prouvaire have been quietly crushing on each other for some time. Combeferre was under the impression his shy friend didn't like him back, but Jehan is just *that shy*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. So this is kinda inspired from RL. I had a pretty awful night last week when one of my internet-friends posted a suicide note in our FB group. A bunch of us reached out to him and talked to him until the cops found him, but it was fairly traumatizing and I felt the need to work through the experience with fiction, thus the fic.

"Courfeyrac, if you're not going to work on your own homework could you at least not distract me from mine?" Enjolras grumbled. Courfeyrac laughed, and leaned over to rest his head against Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras shoved him roughly until he righted his posture and was positioned more at his own table than Enjolras'.

They were sitting in the back room of the Musain with Combeferre and Prouvaire, who both understood the concept of studying in a group setting. Courfeyrac got the social part of the activity, but he'd spent the night pestering everyone else with gossip about acquaintances that weren't necessarily shared, whining about his classes, and goofing off on social media. At least when he was on Facebook and Tumblr he wasn't actively distracting them though. Enjolras had a mountain of reading to get through for his World Civ class and his friend was getting on his nerves.

Jehan smiled sweetly at Enjolras, an attempt to break the tension. "We could take a study break, Enjolras. Courfeyrac's not the only one getting antsy. I think I've consumed too large an amount of caffeine to sit still for that much longer."

"I can't until I read at least thirty more pages," Enjolras said, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He'd mapped out his night with the careful placement of different colored post-its in his textbooks. Every time he got to a blue one he could take a bathroom break, and every time he got to a yellow one he could get another cup of coffee. The exceedingly rare and coveted pink post-it represented social media breaks.

"I'll take a walk with you," Combeferre offered. He shut his Organic Chemistry book with decisive gusto and held out his arm in an exaggeratedly gentlemanly manner. 

Jehan giggled a little before taking it. "It's absolutely horrid outside. You're aware, aren't you? It started downpouring almost as soon as we got here."

"Well we can just walk around the cafe for a few minutes then. Enjolras may be able to regulate his bodily functions by post-it, but I need a little more exercise than that."

"Enjolras could learn the ancient art of skimming," Courfeyrac said, earning him a glare from their resident over-achiever. "What? We're in college now. You can't actually read every single thing you're assigned."

"Watch me," Enjolras said.

"Well you'll have to pick up skimming before grad school, anyway."

Enjolras dove back into his reading while Jehan and Combeferre took their ridiculous walk around the cafe's back room. Courfeyrac watched them for a minute, chin resting on his hand as he smiled vapidly. "They're getting stupidly cute, huh?" Enjolras made a small noise of acknowledgment and pointedly turned a page in his book. "Enj..." Courfeyrac lightly kicked his foot under the table. "C'mon, even you in all your asexual seriousness must be able to see how schmoopy and adorable our friends are."

That was enough to get Enjolras' attention. "I'm not asexual." He closed the book and regarded Courfeyrac with some confusion.

"You aren't?" Courfeyrac frowned. "I could have sworn you were."

"Nope."

"But...huh. Aromantic?" he tried.

Enjolras shrugged. "I don't think so. Maybe. I don't know. Why did you think I was asexual?"

Courfeyrac snorted. Enjolras stared at him in an unsettling fashion until he realized he wanted an answer. "Um...because people literally and figuratively throw themselves at you on a regular basis and you never do anything about it."

"Now that you mention it, I can see where you got that impression. Well I'm not asexual. I'm just picky."

"Apparently."

Now that his focus was broken, Enjolras chanced a look around the room until he saw Combeferre and Jehan, arm in arm and walking back and forth in front of a large window with a view of the city streets. Or, it would have had a lovely view if it weren't for the cascading fall of rain. Jehan was positively beaming as he looked up at Combeferre, the arm not linked in his gesturing wildly. Combeferre was saying something in a low, steady tone inaudible from the other side of the room, hazel eyes fixed exclusively on their friend.

Enjolras gave a small nod, ceding Courfeyrac the point. "They're cute. Ferre hasn't mentioned anything to me about the crush."

"I think it's still subconscious for him. Prouvaire's gone though. He's writing poetry and drawing little hearts around Combeferre's name and shit like that. If he weren't so friggin' shy he'd have made a move by now."

"Combeferre's an introspective guy. They'll probably officially be a thing before the semester's done." Enjolras reached for his book. "Now that I've indulged you with some gossip, will you let me return to my studies?"

"Fine. I've got some internet friends I could be chatting with." Courfeyrac turned his attention to his open laptop, and for the next twenty minutes blessed silence reigned. Enjolras got tantalizingly close to the next post-it, and Combeferre and Jehan migrated to another table closer to the fake fireplace to geek out over classic literature without disrupting Enjolras. Enjolras was getting in the zone, losing himself in the reading, and then Courfeyrac let out a loud squeak and kicked the table, knocking over a pile of books and scattering a bunch of Enjolras' papers.

"Courf!" Enjolras glared daggers at his friend while he tidied up his stack of schoolwork.

"Shut up," Courfeyrac snapped, in a very un-Courfeyrac manner. His face had gone white and he was staring at his laptop screen with an intensity Enjolras rarely saw from his easygoing friend. Courfeyrac's mouth was hanging open as he gaped at the screen, then he pressed his lips together in a firm line and began typing.

"Courf? What's wrong? Did something happen?" Enjolras scooched closer so he could read over his shoulder.

"One of my friends posted a suicide note in our discussion group."

"What? What did he say? Who is it?"

"I dunno him in real life. His name's R." Courfeyrac sent off another message, then turned the screen closer to Enjolras. It was a group for some band Courfeyrac was really into, which struck Enjolras as an odd place to put a suicide note. "He lives near here though. We were supposed to go to a show together on the next tour. We're always talking. He...I was really looking forward to meeting him in real life. Shit..."

"It says he only posted the note fifteen minutes ago. Have you messaged him?"

"Yeah, and he answered...maybe it's just a cry for help?"

Enjolras grabbed the laptop from Courfeyrac, read over the note, and then clicked on R's profile page. There wasn't much information to be gleaned from it. His profile picture was the death's head decoration on a 17th century grave, and his cover picture was a crowd shot from a concert. His info said he lived in the same town as them and went to the community college, but he didn't have any contact info listed or relatives named. While Enjolras was scanning the page Courfeyrac received a notification. "R just sent you a message."

"What's it say?"

"He says he can't take it anymore and he doesn't want you to try to talk him out of anything...he's just saying goodbye because he feels like he owes you. Apparently you're the only person who's been decent to him and since you're just an internet friend...he's sick of being alone."

"That's horseshit. He's not alone. Enjolras, get out of the way." Courfeyrac grabbed his computer back. "We live in the same fucking town. I've been trying to get him to meet up with me for ages. R, you stupid son of a bitch, you are not doing this." He started typing furiously.

"Do you know what his real name is?" Enjolras asked.

Courfeyrac shook his head.

"What's he look like? He lives in town. We might have bumped into each other-"

"Enjolras, will you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to talk a man out of killing himself. I need to concentrate."

Scowling, Enjolras retreated for his own table. He reached into his bag and took out his laptop, logged onto Facebook, and searched the name R DaCynic. He clicked on the profile he'd just glimpsed on Courfeyrac's laptop and sent R a friend request. 

"Is everything all right?"

Courfeyrac jumped out of his skin at the sound of Jehan's quavering voice, but Enjolras kept his eyes firmly on the screen, waiting for his request to be accepted. "Courfeyrac's having an emergency. One of his internet friends posted a suicide note. I think it's a cry for help. If he didn't want to be talked out of it, he wouldn't be chatting with Courfeyrac."

"Enjolras, kindly shut the fuck up," Courfeyrac near-growled. His hair was sticking on end from the way he kept running his hands through it. The poor kid was shaking. "You're probably right though. He's still answering me. He-he wouldn't be doing that if he was serious, right?"

"Oh dear. What's he saying?" Jehan pulled his chair next to Courfeyrac's and sat down while Combeferre hovered awkwardly beside them.

"He keeps saying that he's so fucking lonely and that he repels everyone and no one would put up with him in real life. H-he can't make it with just internet friends anymore. Fuck. Guys, what if he really does it?"

Jehan squeezed his shoulder. "Just keep him talking, Courf. Maybe we can talk him out of it."

"Yes..." Enjolras muttered. R had just accepted his friend request. He tuned the others out and devoted himself to an examination of the guy's profile. Most of his pictures were of inanimate objects or artwork, but he had a few actual selfies in one of his albums. None of them were profile pics, which Enjolras found odd. The clearest one was a picture of R with the lead singer of the band he and Courfeyrac liked, standing on the sidewalk outside a music venue after a show. R's whole face was lit up. It was the best image of him Enjolras could find, so he spent a moment studying it, hoping for a spark of recognition.

As far as he could tell he'd never seen the guy before in his life. He was pretty sure he'd remember the brilliantly blue eyes if he'd seen them before. He couldn't get over the color of them, and wondered if he'd put the picture through a filter or something to get that effect. Only the lead singer's eyes looked perfectly normal. Enjolras had blue eyes as well, but his were tinged with gray and tended towards the hard and steely. R's were vibrantly blue, fairly large, and glittered like some kind of precious stone...

A PM popped up in the corner of the window, distracting him from his contemplation of the stranger. <Hey...do I actually know you or are you just going to try to talk me out of killing myself?>

<The latter.> Enjolras responded. <I'm friends with Courfeyrac.>

<I saw that. That's why I accepted the friend request. I figured it was something like that. Unless your profile's a total lie, you seem memorable.>

<Okay. Are you alone? You're welcome to join me and my friends at the Musain. We can come and get you, even.>

<Wouldn't want to put you out.>

<To be fair, you've already ruined my studying.> Enjolras hesitated before he sent that, but some impulse compelled him to tease the total stranger in an admittedly bad head space. He cursed himself as soon as he did it, the lengthy pause before R's answer doing nothing to steady his nerves.

<A thousand apologies.> Enjolras breathed a quiet sigh of relief and read the rest of R's message. <I can see from the nerd-rages you call status updates that you take this all very seriously.>

<I'm an honors student, yes. Some things are more important though. Courf said you were lonely. My friends are capable of remedying that. Jehan will smother you with affection.>

<I'm not looking for pity.>

<You want friends. We're friends. We're very friendly people. You should hang out with us.>

There was another lengthy pause without a response. Courfeyrac was hammering away at his keyboard, so Enjolras figured R was probably talking to him. He hoped that was the case, anyway. While he waited for a response, Enjolras clicked through a few more of R's pictures, looking for another one that was actually him. It took a bit but he finally found one of R sitting on the stoop of a building, a cigarette dangling from his thin, pale lips. He had deep shadows under his eyes, yellowish skin stretched tightly over severe looking features. He was smirking though, and flipping off whoever was taking the picture. Enjolras could just barely make out chipped black nail polish on the raised middle finger.

<I wasn't trying to muscle in on Courf's friend group. I just wanted to say goodbye. He wasn't going to know otherwise. We don't know each other in RL.>

<You could if you wanted to.> Enjolras typed back. <Your college is two blocks away from where we're sitting right now. You must be nearby.>

<Probably.>

<Where are you, R? I'll come and get you.>

<I'm on the roof.>

Enjolras' breath caught in his throat. He forced a few calm breaths, since his hands were shaking a bit too much for him to type. <That doesn't sound like a very good choice, R.>

<Yeah, it's pretty dumb of me. Raining like crazy up here. Not sure how much longer my phone's going to work. I should probably just get this over with.>

<No, that is not what you should do. Keep talking.>

<Why? You don't even know me. Why do you care??>

<I care because you're suffering and I want to help. Talk to me, R. You said you don't want to be alone anymore. You're not right now. There are dozens of people posting messages for you in that fan group you met Courf at, and he's practically in tears right now. My friends and I are all worried about you. We want to help. Please talk to me.>

Facebook informed him that R had seen his message but no response followed. Enjolras tried to wait it out, but he wasn't temperamentally suited for inaction. He cursed under his breath, shut down his computer, and pulled up Facebook on his phone.

"Enjolras, what are you doing?" Jehan squeaked. Enjolras had climbed to his feet and was shrugging into his coat.

"I'm going to go look for him."

"How?" Courfeyrac snapped. "We don't know where he is!"

Enjolras considered telling Courfeyrac that he knew R was on a roof but decided against it. The poor kid was already almost out of his mind with worry. Enjolras decided to keep that nasty detail to himself. 

He was almost sure R was going to jump before anyone found him and was trying to steel himself up for that unpleasant eventuality. He wanted Courfeyrac to be able to hope a little longer. It only seemed fair, since he and R were actually friends. "Just try to keep him talking. If he's typing things out on his phone then he's not hurting himself."

"I'm going to call 911," Combeferre decided.

"And tell them what?" Courfeyrac snapped. "That a guy whose name we don't know is going to kill himself but we don't know where he is or what he's going to do?"

"Well we know what he looks like! Maybe they've got a database or something they can use."

Enjolras left while they were still bickering. He only thought to pull his hood up once he was already outside, although the gesture was pretty pointless. He was soaked through after a minute, water sloshing unpleasantly in his shoes as he waded through the puddles on the sidewalk. He frantically looked at the buildings around him, trying to spot an accessible roof. Most of them were gabled or otherwise pitched. You couldn't get onto them very easily. He kept walking in the direction of the community college, silently praying that he would stumble onto the right building.

He ducked under an overhang when he felt his phone vibrate in his hand and checked his notification. <Courf said you just ran out into the rain looking for me. Are you nuts?>

<Asks the guy posting suicide notes to a music discussion group.>

<I'm admittedly unbalanced. I make no pretenses about that. You on the other hand strike me as a guy with his shit together.>

Enjolras frowned. <How would you know? We're strangers.>

<Courf talks about you sometimes. Plus I've been creeping your page. Is that really you or are those stock photos?>

Enjolras laughed, even though the twisting feeling was still gripping him low in the stomach. Some of his fear eased a little at the bizarre question. <That's really me. I have like ten photo albums. The idea of that being a stock model seems a bit improbable, doesn't it?>

<Your face is completely improbable.>

Enjolras frowned at his phone. <What does that mean?>

<It means you're the most improbably pretty human being I've ever seen. Jesus Christ, try to keep up. I thought you were smart too. The quality of your FB posts certainly implies that. And the fact that you're distressed about me but sending me grammatically accurate messages. It's really kind of sexy.>

<...are you flirting with me?>

<Um...not trying to. Does this seriously count as flirting to you?>

Enjorlas decided to ignore that question, even though he was desperate to keep R talking. <So what are you doing?>

<Talking to you so I don't jump off the building. I don't think that's how I want to go but I can't think of anything else to do. I could jump into the river but that seems almost as bad. I should have just taken pills or something. Now I'm thinking too much.>

<That's because you don't really want to die. Where are you, R?>

<I told you. On a roof. Getting ready to jump.>

<Where? What roof?>

<Are you going to save me, Enjolras?> Even though he'd never heard R's voice before, he could just imagine the tone of that question. Belligerent, mocking, sarcastic...R seemed far too cynical to believe there really were strangers who cared enough about the suffering of others to shoulder through a rainstorm to find them.

<Yes, I damn well am. My grammar might start to suffer now. I don't have gloves or a heavy coat and I'm drenched. Wind is bad too. Very cold. Typing on a phone now. Can you tell me where you are? Rather talk in person than type like this. Starting to lose feeling in my fingers.>

<Jesus Christ. Go back inside, I'm not worth it.>

<I'll walk around all night if I have to. I'm going to find you.>

<All right, all right. I'm not really on the roof.>

Enjolras had been wondering how R's sentences were coming out so cleanly, considering he'd supposedly been typing on a phone out in the rain longer than he'd been. He'd be angry about that later. At the moment, he was just grateful R wasn't on a literal ledge.

<Where are you?>

<Home. I meant to go up on the roof. Kind of like I meant to go buy a bottle of aspirin and some vodka, and how I meant to bring a boxcutter home from work. I can't even commit to death. How sad is that?>

<I think it's perfect because it means you really want to live. You just need help. It's okay to need help, R. You're just sick. It's not your fault you're sick. Let us help you.>

<You know, just because you look like an angel it doesn't mean you have to save people. I can see why you'd be confused about that though. If I saw that perfect golden halo of hair every time I looked in the mirror I might get confused too.>

Enjolras scowled down at his phone. He wanted to cry out in frustration.

At least he was pretty sure R wasn't really going to kill himself. Now that the panic was starting to subside he was starting to get pissed off. <Where is your house, dammit? I will knock on every door in this city if I have to, so save me the god damn time and the pneumonia I'm going to come down with trudging around in my soaked clothes.>

<Are you really walking around aimlessly looking for me?>

Enjolras snapped a selfie and sent it to R.

<Holy shit. Your hair looks nothing like a halo at the moment.>

<Funny, that.>

<You seriously just ran out into the rain with no plan?>

Enjolras started to type out a response, but his phone jumped to a message from Courfeyrac. <Are you still talking to R?!?!?! He hasn't answered in like ten mins!! Trying not to lose my shit. He's done it, hasn't he?!??!>

Enjolras quickly assured him that R was still alive. He was tempted to throw in a comment about him being an infuriating, self-centered jack ass, but he kept that to himself. He closed Courfeyrac's window and turned his attention back to R's. It really was getting difficult to type on his phone. The overhang of the building wasn't doing much to keep his screen dry now that the wind had picked up, and his fingers were so cold he could barely feel them.

<I'm freezing. Can you message me your number so I can call you, at least?> Enjolras asked.

R obliged, and a moment later Enjolras was calling him. His voice was quiet and scratchy when he answered.

"R, is that you?"

"Enjolras? Y-yeah, it's me. Damn, even your voice sounds nice. You're just a treat for the senses, huh? I can see why Courf's always talking about you."

"Does he talk about me a lot?" Enjolras leaned against the building and tried to cover one of his hands with the sleeve of his jacket. It didn't do much, since the material was also cold and wet. He should probably head back to the Musain. He didn't want to move from the spot though. It was completely irrational, but he felt like if he headed anywhere other than R's house he would lose him.

"He's always going on about you and Combeferre and your friends. Says you guys are trying to change the world, and that you're stubborn enough that you'll probably do it. It all sounds like dreamy BS to me, but I have to give him one thing. You're definitely stubborn."

"My parents think it's a character flaw. I d-don't agree with them on the s-subject."

"I can hear your teeth chattering. You should really go inside."

"N-not until you t-tell me how to f-find you." Enjolras ground his teeth together. It did nothing to stop the violence of his shivers.

"Don't be an idiot. You're going to kill yourself trying to stop me from doing it."

"If I h-have to. I'll st-stay out here all night."

"Enjolras, don't be stupid."

"T-tell me wh-where you are. We'll be to-together, out of the r-rain, and not dead."

Grantaire let out a string of colorful curses. Once that was out of his system he sounded exasperated, which was pretty comforting all things considered.

Finally, he folded. He told Enjolras his address.

"Th-thank you. That's not far from here. St-stay on the phone while I w-walk over?"

"Of course," R whispered. "Enjolras, you don't have to do this. I'm not worth it. You should go back to studying."

"Don't b-be an idiot, R. I should be there in a few min-"

"It's Grantaire."

"What?"

"My name," he clarified. "R's a nickname. My real name's Grantaire. I...I thought if I had friends, it'd be cool if they called me R. Like Grand R? Grantaire?"

"I get it," Enjolras snapped. He was smiling though. It really was rather cute. And rather sad, that he'd given himself his own nickname in the absence of friends to do it for him.

It only took Enjolras about fifteen minutes to walk to Grantaire's apartment. It would have been faster but he got turned around a couple of times. The rain was coming down hard enough to obscure his vision, which made it difficult to read the street signs. Grantaire was only two streets away from the Musain. Enjolras remarked on that. "We hang out at the cafe by your house nearly every day. You should just join us. It'd be better than sitting alone letting your depression convince you of all sorts of awful things that aren't true."

"It gets kinda hard to leave my room sometimes." Grantaire's voice had gotten very soft. In the absence of dark humor and sarcasm, his tone of voice was weak and hesitant.

"When it's not, you sh-should join us. Fuck, I hope I'm al-almost there. Can't feel my damn toes anymore." Enjolras wiped at his runny nose with his sleeve. He was a bit disgusted with himself, but it's not like he had any better options. He made a mental note to throw his sweatshirt in the wash when he got home. "Grantaire, you're so close to us and C-Courfeyrac cares about you. He's friendly, but he's not like th-this with everyone. I c-consider that a character testament. It makes me think I ought to kn-know you better. Oh thank everything decent. You said your building's the one with the peeling yellow paint and the Christmas lights that are up year round, right?"

"Yeah. Hold on, I'll be right down to let you in. Um, I put some water on for cocoa. I'll be right there." He hung up, and Enjolras tucked his phone in his pocket then hugged his hands under his armpits and waited for the door to open.

It was flung wide barely a moment later, giving Enjolras his first look at the internet-friend in person.

The pretty blue eyes definitely hadn't been photoshopped. If anything, they were more mesmerizing in person. 

Otherwise, Grantaire looked to be a bit of a wreck. Still, Enjolras liked what he saw in the eyes. There was pain there, of course. The set of his brow and his bitten lips indicated that as well. But he was looking at Enjolras in concern, and the concern hinted at a depth of kindness Enjolras found admirable.

"Get in here, you fucking selfless idiot." Grantaire grabbed Enjolras' arm with a bony, large knuckled hand and tugged him into the building's entryway. "Is this a habit for you, chasing after strangers who are having bad days?"

"It's the first time a stranger's ever told me he was about to kill himself," Enjolras answered. He snatched his arm back from Grantaire and returned it to the hugged-armpit position. His teeth were still chattering whenever he relaxed his jaw enough to let his mouth move.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and then took off up a rickety staircase. Enjolras followed after him, eager to get into a heated room.

He was greatly disappointed when Grantaire showed him into his apartment. It was a two-room studio on the fourth floor. Based on the way the roof sloped over the bedroom, it had probably been an attic storage space before the owner of the building split the place up to make apartments. Enjolras wondered for a moment if Grantaire had been lying about his intentions to jump from the roof, but then he spied a little window above a drafting table that opened onto a large enough dormer to stand on. He could have jumped from there.

It was a squalid little room. Grantaire's bed was an old futon mattress covered with thin, ragged blankets. He had a space heater resting on a crate next to the bed, with his laptop perched on another crate to serve as a TV. There were empty bottles and cans of cheap beer on nearly every surface, with old cereal bowls serving as overflowing ash trays. The room stank like stale beer and cigarettes. It was also nearly as cold as being outside, only possessing the advantages of being dry and not windy (although with the way the glass was rattling in the panes of his window, if Enjolras stood close enough to it he'd probably feel the wind).

Grantaire went over to a large plastic storage tub that seemed to house his clothes. He extracted a pair of fleece pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. "Here. You can borrow these. There's a bathroom downstairs, or you can get changed in the other room if you want. I'll wait in here."

"Thank you." Enjolras went into the second room, the kitchen, where he found even more empty bottles and makeshift ashtrays. He stripped out of his sodden clothes as quickly as he could, grabbed a plastic bag from the bag of bags Grantaire had hanging from the handle of a cabinet, and dropped the dripping mess into it. He hesitated, looking at his socks for a moment, then stripped them off and tossed them into the bag as well. The floorboards were like ice on his feet, but the socks hadn't been helping either.

He felt marginally warmer when he returned to the bedroom but he was still visibly shivering. Grantaire motioned for him to get onto the bed and he started heaping blankets around Enjolras' shoulders. He'd turned on the space heater and cranked it to its highest setting. "Better?"

"Much," Enjolras said. "Thank you."

"Hey, it's the least I could do. Y'know, considering you...uh...yeah. The hot water should be ready soon. It's just store brand cocoa, but I figured a hot mug would feel good right now, even if it's only got cheap shit in it." The tea kettle whistled as he was speaking, so he awkwardly shuffled into the other room.

Enjolras' head was spinning. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped when he heard a loud noise coming from his bag of wet clothes. It took him a stupid amount of time to realize it was his phone vibrating with a text.

Apparently he'd missed rather a lot of texts while he'd been talking to Grantaire. He read through some increasingly worried messages from all three of his friends. Apparently Grantaire had stopped messaging Courfeyrac entirely once he'd started talking to Enjolras.

Enjolras texted Courfeyrac back, letting him know where he was. He said that he was pretty sure he was going to be busy for a bit, but promised to check in later. Courfeyrac sent him a relieved looking emoji in response.

Grantaire returned with two mugs. He placed one in Enjolras' hands, the rough pads of his fingers briefly brushing over Enjolras' frozen skin as he passed it off. "Thank you," Enjolras whispered. He made no move to take a sip, cupping both hands around the mug and leaning over the steam as it rose. It felt good in his hands.

Grantaire sat down on the floor in front of him, holding his own mug in a similar position. He seemed fairly comfortable in the frigid room, so Enjolras concluded that the hunched over position was more an effort to avoid eye contact. Grantaire was at least appropriately dressed for a bedroom nearly as cold as the outdoors; he was wearing a baggy hoodie and a different pair of fleece pajama pants with two layers of socks.

Enjolras finally took a sip of his cocoa. "This is really good for store brand. I was expecting it to be watery."

"I gave you two packets. Seemed like the polite thing to do." Grantaire briefly took a hand from his mug to scratch at his nose. "Um...so hi."

"Hi. Despite the circumstances, it's nice to meet you."

"Is it?"

Enjolras shrugged his shoulders a little. "I meant what I said about Courfeyrac's opinion of you being a testament to your character. I wasn't just trying to make you feel better. I always enjoy meeting his friends. A lot of them become my friends eventually."

"Oh. That's good to know. Yeah, Courf's a cool guy. We were, um, we were talking about going to some shows together next year when the guys tour again. Were you-you should think about going. Those shows are pretty much the best thing ever. I've been like living for them. Wait, I didn't mean it like...well, fuck it. I'd probably be in better shape if the guys were touring right now. I get pretty twitchy this time of year."

"Seasonal affective disorder?"

Grantaire chewed his lip before answering. "I think so. I've always got the depression, but it steps up around now and without distractions I get lost in my head. It's going to be a long winter this year. I can't believe it's only November and I'm already doing this shitty." Grantaire scrubbed a hand over his face. "I am so sorry for dragging you into this. I was creeping your profile all while we were talking and you seem like a really cool guy. I shouldn't be burdening you with my shit."

"It's not a burden, Grantaire. I'll tell you if I start to feel that way though. Would you...would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Anything," Grantaire said, in a quick, almost reverent whisper that startled both of them almost equally, based on the way he flinched back and ducked his head. "Wh-what did you want?"

"A pair of socks or some slippers would be nice. I'm still really cold."

"Sorry. I didn't even think. Shit, sorry. My heat's not on yet. I figured I could make it through November this year so I didn't budget for it."

"You know, the space heater's probably more expensive in the long run."

"Yeah, but I barely turn it on. It's only on now because I've got company." Grantaire shuffled around the room searching for a clean pair of socks. He finally unearthed a pair from a pile of laundry under his drafting table. He sat down on the bed next to Enjolras and handed them off.

"Thank you." Enjolras unwrapped himself from the pile of blankets long enough to get the socks on. He was about to pull the blankets snugly around his shoulders again when he was seized with an odd impulse. "You must be cold too. Why don't you scooch a little closer? We can share the blankets."

"I, uh...I'll be okay."

"Grantaire...I have bad days too. I..." Enjolras swallowed around a suddenly constricted throat, and cursed society's bullshit for making this kind of illness so difficult to talk about. "When I get that way Jehan cuddles me. He says hugging helps. Supposedly he has studies to back up this assertion. I'm not entirely convinced it's not bullshit. Jehan's much more affectionate that way than I am...but I do usually feel better after his hugging therapy. And besides that, it's fucking freezing in here. At least this way we're less likely to die of hypothermia."

"Yeah, you weren't all that concerned about cold and hypothermia when you were running around in the rain like an idiot, were you?" Grantaire teased. He did scooch over though, and Enjolras was able to get his arm and a few blankets around him.

"It worked, didn't it? You took pity on me and let me in. And now we're warm and cuddling. This is much better than running around in the rain or contemplating...contemplating something drastic."

Grantaire made a soft noise, and pressed closer to Enjolras' side. "You smell really good. Is that cologne or bodywash?"

"Probably sweat and your fabric softener."

"I don't use fabric softener."

"Bodywash then." Enjorlas tucked the blankets more securely around them, then rested his hand on Grantaire's waist. He splayed his fingers out over the scratchy material of Grantaire's hoodie, wondering how much softer and warmer the skin underneath it must feel.

That was a pretty inappropriate thought, all things considered.

He might tell Courfeyrac about that later. It was moments like these that made Enjolras pretty sure he was neither asexual nor aromantic. Because he was perfectly content cuddling Grantaire, and even the thought of returning to his studies didn't make him want to move from that spot.

"God, but I wish I'd met you any other way than this," Grantaire choked out.

Enjolras instinctively tightened his grip, reacting to the pain in the other boy's voice. "It's okay. Grantaire, it's okay. I'm not going to judge you for being ill. You can lean on me. I don't mind."

"I...fuck. It's just so fucking..."

"You don't need to be embarrassed. You're not alone." Enjolras shifted so that Grantaire could press closer, burying his wet face in Enjolras' chest. "You've got us now. You've got me. I won't leave you alone with the thoughts, I promise."

"Fuck. Enjolras, are you even real?" Grantaire pulled back for a second to wipe at his face. He couldn't seem to just let his tears flow. He kept trying to blink them back or wipe them away, when it looked like the first thing he needed was a good long cry. "I almost feel like I made you up. Y-you're saying all the things I really need right now. And you're so fucking...like, my type. I've tried to draw things as pretty as you and never managed to come close. Are you sure you're not a figment of my imagination?"

Enjolras couldn't suppress a wobbly smile. "I'm real. And I promise, I don't mind being here. You can talk to me about anything you want. I'll probably interrupt you with suggestions though. I'm not as good a listener as I could be. Jehan and Combeferre are better at that. I'll try though. Or I could just keep holding you. I'm...I'm liking that part too."

Grantaire laughed and rubbed at his eyes again. "Did you need the cuddling too?"

"Actually, yes. If you could tuck your head under my chin again...yes, like that. And whisper soothing things to me about how I'm definitely not going to flunk my exams, and that it's okay to get a B every now and then. I'll still graduate summa cum laude and get into a good grad school even if I drop below a 4.0 average. I might believe it if I hear it from another person."

Grantaire snorted. "Is that the kind of shit you worry about?"

"Yes. What do you worry about?" Enjolras poked his side.

"I dunno. I think my stuff's more typical for someone who's depressed. No one loves me, I fuck everything up, I'm going to die miserable and alone so I might as well get it over with now. It's actually kind of cliche when you think about it. At least your demons are interesting in comparison."

"I worry about other things too," Enjolras admitted. "The grades are just troubling me right now because my workload has picked up and I'm not managing it well. Every time I stop and do something social I feel guilty for it, because it's time I could have been spending doing something 'important.' So I haven't been taking very good care of myself. I can feel my mental state getting worse because of it, but I haven't been able to break the cycle. I'm even rationing how much food I'm allowed to eat on a given day and that's...I have a bad history with that. I don't want to start those patterns again."

Grantaire gave him a squeeze. "Thanks for telling me about that. I, uh...I feel like less of a freak."

"Good. That was the goal." Enjolras returned the squeeze. "It's also kind of a relief to get it out there. Courfeyrac's the only one who knows about my food issues. I don't like to talk about it. People always think it's something to do with body image, but that's not it. I don't really care what I look like or what my weight is. It's more about controlling something about my body, if that makes sense."

"I get it." Grantaire's voice was a bare scratch of a whisper, serious enough that Enjolras believed him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, breathing deeply and enjoying each other's warmth. Grantaire remained curled against Enjolras, face mostly hidden. He felt like a bag of bones covered in scratchy fabric. His wild hair was wiry and itched at Enjolras' face. For all that, there was something incredibly comforting about holding him. There was something soothing about having unloaded about some of his own issues to a person who was suffering some of the same, and didn't try to fix it for you or change the subject. Grantaire listened, expressed sympathy, and hugged him.

Enjolras decided he didn't care if Jehan ever did find the study again. Hugging this guy at least was helping him greatly.

"H-hey, Enjolras? Um...not to, to be weird or anything because this is really nice and I could stay like this all night...but if you've been getting anxious over your grades then ignoring your homework in favor of a damaged douchebag you don't really know probably isn't going to help anything. You should, you should probably go back to your friends now. I feel better. I'm, I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"Are you sure?" For the first time in weeks the grades didn't seem quite as important to Enjolras. Because of the way he'd been stressing and overworking himself, he didn't have anything actually due for another three days. "I don't really feel like leaving you alone."

"I'll be fine." Grantaire shifted away, a shy smile on his thin lips as he tried and failed to hold eye contact. He was looking somewhere in the vicinity of Enjolras' chin when he spoke again. "I've got friends now, right?"

"Yes," Enjolras said without hesitation. "You definitely have friends. You could come back to the Musain with me. Courfeyrac's been wanting to meet you in person for ages. You worried him so much earlier. This would make his night."

"I...I don't know if I'm feeling up to a public place like that."

Enjolras nodded, and pitched the idea he liked even better instead.

About twenty minutes later, after cramming themselves into Combeferre's car, Grantaire and Enjolras were sitting in the living room of Enjolras and Combeferre's heated off-campus apartment. Jehan was curled up in the papasan chair in the corner with one of Combeferre's cats perched on his lap while Combeferre made them tea. Courfeyrac was sitting next to them on the couch, talking animatedly with Grantaire about their music fandom while Enjolras tried and failed to focus his attention on his studies.

It would help if his stomach stopped doing an uncomfortable whooshing thing every time Grantaire said something.

By the end of the night, when they'd transitioned from an unproductive study-buddy session to Netflix marathon and sleepover, Enjolras privately agreed with Grantaire. He couldn't help but wish they'd met any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that came out kind of weird. I didn't mean to romanticize depression. In fact, I actually pretty much hate when I encounter that in writing. I'm guessing this is just a reflection of the fact that when I'm down (which I have been, kind of a lot lately) I usually feel like I need a good cuddle from an understanding ear who will tell me everything's okay. I'm guessing that's where that's coming from.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure how I feel about chapter one. It was somewhat therapeutic to write though.


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire worked his way into their group of friends so effortlessly that after a couple of weeks the college boys started to forget he hadn't been there all along. The bad night that had brought him into the fold was easily forgotten in the wake of his cheerfully boisterous demeanor.

It was easy to see why he and Courfeyrac had become friends. When it came to sarcastic humor, lively discussions of pop culture, and flirtation, they were definitely temperamentally suited for each other. He also read almost as much as Combeferre and made an excellent discussion partner, though Combeferre's comprehension of what he read seemed to be a bit stronger; from the sound of it Grantaire garbled things together quite often. His manifold interests encompassed quite a few of Jehan's as well, resulting in the two of them going to art exhibitions, plays, and lectures that the other friends ducked out of.

  
He was often the first to arrive at the Musain and the last to leave, always cheerful and excited to see his new friends. Sometimes it took effort to recall that first night, when he'd been coming apart in front of them and they'd spent long, quiet hours helping him fit back together again.

  
Of course, he had ways of reminding Enjolras of that stubborn elephant in the room. Grantaire was quiet about it. It was clear he didn’t like to talk about his mental illness. The support he took from his friends was in the form of distraction and merriment - fake the good moods until you feel them. He never took Enjolras up on any of his offers to hang back and talk one on one, or made any indication he was reading the articles Enjolras stubbornly linked him on Facebook.

What Grantaire did do was check up on Enjolras with quiet, thoughtful gestures. He was very attuned to Enjolras in a way he wasn't with the others. If Enjolras tried to read past a post-it mandated study break, Grantaire drew him into conversation or pulled up something fun for him to look at online. He noticed when Enjolras tried to skip meals or curb his portions and asked him if he wanted to check out a new diner or restaurant with him. Enjolras was grateful for the attention. He didn't regret making himself vulnerable to his new friend, far from it. He just wished he could figure out a way to return the favor.

After that first night Grantaire had pretty much shut down on them regarding his depression. He wouldn't talk about it. If anyone even tried to bring up mental illness or suicide, even in such a way that it didn't necessarily involve Grantaire, he made some kind of excuse and left. Enjolras found it disconcerting, but the others didn't seem terribly concerned. Grantaire hadn't made any indication that he was having anymore suicidal thoughts. As far as they could tell, he'd had a bad night and was getting better.

Owing to his firsthand experience, Enjolras knew that depression didn't quite work like that. It was cyclical. They'd met Grantaire at the poor part of a cycle, he'd bounced back shortly thereafter, so it was only a matter of time until he had another bad day…

* * *

 

The week of finals was a particularly brutal one for Enjolras. He wound up with three take-home exams, four papers, and two in-class exams to study for. The night before the first exam he screamed at Jehan for tapping his pencil too loudly against his notebook while he was reading over his notes. Jehan shrank down in the seat, eyes wide and wet but managing to not actually cry. Combeferre wrapped a protective arm around him and threw a disgusted look Enjolras' way.

"Sorry. I-I'd better go. I can't focus here." Enjolras snatched his books up and started tossing them in his bag carelessly, littering the table with post-its of varying colors.

His friends looked like they wanted to say something but Enjolras managed to escape before any of them managed to find their words. He started power walking towards his apartment but stopped after a couple of blocks. He leaned against the side of a building and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking, and it wasn't just because of the December chill.

"I'm such an asshole," he whispered. He decided to apologize to Jehan the first chance he got. His head was swimming from guilt, anxiety, and a bit of worry for Grantaire, who'd skipped out on the Musain that night.

Enjolras thought of the last time he'd felt that particular burden of toxic emotions, when he'd been out in the rain and scared for the internet-friend. He closed his eyes, focusing on the pleasant memory of Grantaire nestled against him under a pile of blankets.

They hadn't cuddled at all after that first night. In fact, though generally physically affectionate with all his friends, Grantaire hadn't touched Enjolras once since the sleepover. Enjolras wasn't exactly the touchy-feely sort himself, so he couldn't figure out how to initiate those sorts of interactions. He wished he knew what he was supposed to be doing to get casual touches to the shoulder or gentle squeezes to the hand.

Before Enjolras could give it any further thought he changed courses and started for Grantaire's street. Within minutes he was standing in front of the once-grand Federalist mansion, sadly converted into five or six poorly cared for apartments. He took out his phone and called Grantaire, since the doorbell didn't work. "Come on, pick up...pick up."

"Hey."

"R? Are you home?"

"Yeah, but um...are you okay? Your voice sounds a little off."

Enjolras took a deep breath. To his own ears his voice sounded level and even, despite the way his heart was pounding and the way his insides were churning. He'd had a lot of practice keeping his emotional state out of his voice. People rarely caught it.

"I'm, I'm having a hard time. I was hoping I could talk to you for a bit. Could you let me in? Please?"

"Yeah. Shit, um, just give me...I'll be down in like a minute."

"Thank you." Enjolras ended the call and sat down on the curb in front of the building to wait.

Grantaire was considerably longer than a minute. By the time the door screeched open Enjolras' butt was numb and his hair and shoulders were lightly dusted with snow flurries. He climbed to his feet and fixed an exasperated look on his host, who was standing in the door way with an anxious look on his face. Enjolras softened, forcibly reminding himself that if Grantaire was skipping the Musain he probably wasn't having a great day either.

"Hey. Uh, well, c'mon in then." Grantaire turned around and silently trudged up the stairs without once turning to look at Enjolras. He shut the front door behind him, adjusted his backpack over shoulder, and then followed after his friend.

The apartment was a bit tidier than the last time Enjolras had seen it. There were fewer empty bottles on the surfaces and the only ashtrays were the real ones. The book stacks had increased in number since the last visit. There was a good sized pile by the mattress, and several more arranged around the crate that served as the laptop stand. Some of them were library books, and quite a few of them had come from Combeferre or Jehan's collections.

Enjolras set his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and went to sit on the mattress. He kept his coat on. It was warmer than the first time he'd been there, but Grantaire was keeping the heat low so it was still pretty chilly. Grantaire himself was wearing a couple of sweatshirts and he'd doubled up the fleece pajama pants.

"What did you want to talk about?" Grantaire asked. He remained standing by the doorway, nervously fidgeting with the ripped up cuff of his sweatshirt.

"I don't know. I just yelled at Jehan for no reason and Combeferre was looking at me like I was evil-"

"To be fair, upsetting Jehan might be one of the more evil things a guy can do."

Enjolras scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I know. I feel like shit over it."

"Don't. He's a nice guy. He'll forgive you. Everyone's gotta know you're only freaking out because of all your finals. How's that going, by the way?"

"Urgh..." Enjolras flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling. "That I actually don't want to talk about. I'm behind in everything. I haven't taken a study break all day, and even so I'm still probably going to be up until three or four in the morning. Especially now that I've taken the time to come here."

"That actually wasn't what I was talking about." Enjolras could just barely hear the smirk in Grantaire's voice as he crept across the room to join him on the futon. He knelt over Enjolras, leaning into his line of sight and yes, there was the smirk. "I was wondering if you were following your own advice and taking some time for self-care. Doesn't sound like you have been."

"No, I definitely haven't," Enjolras admitted.

"How much have you eaten today?"

Enjolras paused to think about it. "I...I skipped breakfast. I'm sorry, I just wasn't hungry. My stomach was in knots. I was amazed I got my coffee down."

"Hey, you don't have to apologize to me. What did you have for lunch?"

"Half a bagel."

"Enjolras..."

"I couldn't eat the other half."

Grantaire flopped down next to him. He kept a few inches of space between them, but he did reach over and touch Enjolras' hand. He closed his eyes, focusing his attention on the soft graze of Grantaire's fingers over his. That tiny bit of skin felt electrified. "You should probably eat something, Enj. I'm not trying to be a nag or anything, but if you're tired, stressed out, and nutritionally deprived then it's no wonder you flipped out. You'll think more clearly if you have a real meal."

"You're probably right."

"I'm definitely right. I haven't gone grocery shopping recently though so I'm not sure I'll be able to help you there. I've got...I can make us peanut butter sandwiches. It's better than nothing."

"Okay. Could we just sit here for a little bit first." Enjolras rolled onto his side so that he was facing Grantaire. Even though the second room wasn't that much of a distance he wasn't ready to stop being near Grantaire yet. 

Grantaire started to make eye contact and then his gaze dropped and he started to shift away. Enjolras blindly reached out and touched the side of his face. "R, please?" Grantaire reached up and touched Enjolras' hand, slowly twining their fingers together.

"Did you want to cuddle again?" he asked.

Enjolras slowly nodded. "I can't exactly ask Jehan for a hug. I nearly made him cry."

Grantaire snorted, then moved closer and tucked his head under Enjorlas' chin, wrapping his arms around his waist. "You're ridiculous. You're also charming, absolutely fucking brilliant, and gorgeous, but ridiculous all the same."

"Mm. You're not so bad yourself." Enjolras closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling a mix of smoke, cheap body spray, and turpentine. "Were you painting today?"

"Yeah. I've been having a rough time too. I had some shit I needed to try to get out of my head and onto canvas. It came out pretty good. I'll probably submit it as part of my portfolio when I try to transfer to you guys' school next year."

“I'd like to see it when it's done.”

“Sure.”

They remained quiet for a few minutes. Enjolras could see a tiny bit of the widow from where he was lying, and he watched the flurries blow around in the wind, gradually increasing in size and quantity until they were big, fat snowflakes. He traced lazy patterns into the back of Grantaire's sweatshirt with his fingers, and felt a twinge of guilt whenever he skimmed over a shoulder blade that just felt far too prominent considering how thick the cloth of the sweatshirt was.

“Grantaire, I don't want to eat your only food. We can have something delivered.”

“It's not...I haven't been leaving my room to go food shopping. It's not like I _couldn't_ get food if I wanted to.” He pulled away from Enjolras and sat up. Enjolras made a little bereft noise he wasn't proud of, but he sat up as well, mentally kicking himself for disturbing their fragile peace. “I know how my apartment and my clothes must make me look to you guys, but I'm not as poor as I look. If I ever got truly fucked I could go crawling to my parents and they'd bail me out. I'm just trying to avoid that for as long as possible. My dad always makes me feel like such a failure for needing help.”

“He'd probably get along with my mother.” Enjolras scrubbed a hand through his hair and bit back on an apology that would probably only annoy his companion. “Well, whatever the reason, you still don't have much food in your house. You admitted as much. I don't mind ordering us subs or something.”

Grantaire considered the olive branch. “I guess I am pretty sick of peanut butter.”

Enjolras nodded in satisfaction and took out his phone. He had a good pizza and sub place saved in his contacts. “What do you want? The cold veggie is my favorite but they do a good eggplant parm.”

“Meatball with extra sauce and cheese?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I keep forgetting you're a carnivore.”

“Omnivore. You know, like nature intended.”

“Uh huh.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he dutifully ordered the sub to Grantaire's specifications. Once he finished he wrapped himself in Grantaire's blankets and eyed the kid hopefully. He couldn't quite choke the words out, but Grantaire got the message anyway and scooched closer. He joined Enjolras under the blankets but this time Enjolras snuggled up against him and rested his head on Grantaire's chest.

Grantaire let out a chuckle that Enjolras could feel against his cheek. “I can't believe _I'm_ the one you want to snuggle with.”

“Why not? I can actually talk to you. My friends are wonderful but they don't really get what it is to feel like this. Well, I think Jehan understands but he handles things so differently from me. It's not really the same.”

“God, if I could ever handle my bullshit as gracefully as Jean Prouvaire I'd feel like I'd finally done something I could be proud of in life. That kid is fucking amazing.”

Enjolras made a small noise of agreement. He closed his eyes, took a few more deep breaths of smoky fabric and lingering traces of turpentine and then forced himself to pull away. “I should probably try to get a little more reading done while we wait for the food to get here.”

“Okay. I'll grab a book.” Grantaire climbed off of the mattress and started rooting through the stacks of books that had accumulated in front of his one lonely, inadequate bookcase. He came back with a paperback that had a large 'Used' sticker slapped across the spine. He sat down by his pillow, leaned against the wall, and motioned towards Enjolras. “Let's read.”

Enjolras smiled, hoping his gratitude showed, and moved his backpack to that end of the bed. He snuggled up to Grantaire, back to front, and read through the rest of his assignment while Grantaire read his own book and absently stroked Enjolras' hair.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the comments I've received so far. They always encourage me to keep going, even though these days I'm usually too scatterbrained to actually respond to them.
> 
> I dashed this chapter off at work between customers to apologies if there are any typos in it. I couldn't give it a good edit before posting but I wanted to write while the muses were speaking to me. This is turning out a lot more fluffy than the source of inspiration led me to believe it was going to go. I'm down with that.

The cuddle session didn't appear to be as one-sided as Enjolras initially feared. Grantaire started showing up at the Musain again after that, giving no indication that he'd been in the bad part of a cycle other than a few offhand references to insomnia and the accompanying dark smudges under his eyes.

He was frustratingly back to normal, right down to the not touching Enjolras in even the most casual manner while being perfectly willing to drape himself over Courfeyrac's back in a hug-turned-dog pile, and avoiding any conversations that could turn to some kind of emotional intimacy. Enjolras tried not to be hurt. It seemed like Grantaire was a completely different person when they were one on one, and frankly he liked that guy a lot better.

It's not that there was anything wrong with Grantaire in a group setting, not really...he was perfectly nice to everyone else. But his humor usually turned on Enjolras' interests, and then it was a bit dizzying when he'd say something witty about Enjolras' passion projects being naive, time-wasting drivel, but also conscientiously remind Enjolras about study breaks and offer to split wraps with him.

"He likes you," Courfeyrac said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The two of them were walking from their campus to the Corinth. It was the last day of finals and thus the beginning of Christmas break. As Combeferre and Prouvaire were going to their respective homes for the holidays and Courfeyrac was burdened with enough family obligations to make his presence sparse at best, they'd decided to switch up their hangout for the last time they'd all be seeing each other before New Year's. Enjolras was taking advantage of the walk by seeking counsel. He himself was terrible at relationships. He'd barely had any romantic ones and never really understood them, but it was an area Courfeyrac showed an interest and a talent with, and when you got him beyond teasing he usually offered remarkably good advice.

Enjolras was nervous about he and Grantaire being the only members of their clique in town and able to hang out for over a week. He wasn't really sure what was going on between them or how he should act. It almost seemed like there were multiple Grantaires who all expected different things of him, and he was never sure which one he was going to get.

"It does seem like he might like me some of the time..." Enjolras said slowly. 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and made an impatient noise. "Some of the time? Enjolras, he's practically throwing himself at you. Well, let me qualify that. For R, he's throwing himself at you. For a normal guy I guess his behavior's a little uneven. But he definitely likes you. Don't you notice the way he fawns all over you...for R?" He added the last qualification as an afterthought. Enjolras didn't say anything, expression turning stonier and stonier as Courfeyrac spoke. "All right, fine, point ceded. His behavior is weird. But I've known him longer than you and I have some insights into how his mind works. He's got a stupid crush. That's why he's so weird around you."

"I wish his behavior were a bit more consistent, but I suppose that's a bit much to hope for from a depressed loner who refuses treatment."

"Pot calling kettle, isn't that?"

"Courfeyrac, I know I'm not quite as outgoing as you, but I'd hardly describe myself as a loner." Enjolras said it with a smirk, and was rewarded with a punch to the arm.

"You know what I'm talking about. For the record, I think it's wicked cute, the way you guys are helping each other. You're rivaling 'Ferre and Jehan in schmoopiness."

Enjolras felt his face heat up, glad the December chill had already reddened his cheeks. "I hadn't realized anyone noticed that."

They walked on in silence for a minute or so, Courfeyrac smiling smugly, like he was privy to some inside joke, and Enjolras staring off into space, brow wrinkled in confusion as he thought over Grantaire's erratic behavior towards him. As baffling as the situation was to Enjolras, it all seemed to make sense to Courfeyrac, who had just admitted that he "spoke R."

"Courfeyrac, does he really like me?"

"Yes, duh."

Enjolras shook his head. "No, I don't mean...I don't mean how like you're guessing Combeferre and Prouvaire are in love with each other. Has he actually said he likes me?"

Courfeyrac gave Enjolras a dramatic look that implied he was being obtuse on purpose. "He calls you beautiful at least once an hour."

"Well, yes, but...look, guys have expressed an interest in my looks before. That doesn't necessarily mean that they like  _me_." It had been a painful part of his adolescence, figuring out that distinction, and the experiences had made Enjolras warier than he probably ought to have been about pursuing relationships.

"Enj..." Courfeyrac softened at that. "He's not just talking about your looks."

"Oh." Enjolras turned away from Courfeyrac, hoping his smile didn't look as idiotic as he suspected it might.

"So...this is mutual, huh? You like him too?"

"Rather a lot, actually." And saying it aloud brought Enjolras' smile into the realm of full stupidity.

"Ah...well, that's pretty awesome. You guys are both really intense though. I hope it goes well because I could totally see you emotionally crippling the other."

Enjolras scowled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Courfeyrac didn't get the chance to answer. He tried to, but Enjolras caught sight of Grantaire waving at them from across the street and he stepped on Courfeyrac's foot repeatedly until he shut up.

"Hey guys!" Grantaire was similarly apple-cheeked when he caught up to them. His messy dark hair was mostly hidden underneath an atrocious looking lime green stocking cap with an actual jingle bell at the end, an early holiday gift from Prouvaire that did admittedly keep Grantaire's ears warm while also making him look thoroughly ridiculous. To complete the eccentric look, Grantaire had accented the cap with patches and buttons from his favorite indie musicians. "Merry whatever-the-fuck." He wrapped a companionable arm around Courfeyrac and fell into step with them.

Enjolras tried not to feel stung, and silently wondered how Courfeyrac was interpreting the touch-thing as a sign of Grantaire's affection for Enjolras. Although he supposed the fact that Grantaire only touched him when he specifically asked for a hug when they were alone together did single him out...

He weighed it out in his head and decided he'd rather be spontaneously hugged than marked for a respectful distinction.

"Oh good, Feuilly's working!" Courfeyrac's face lit up as soon as they got inside, and if he hadn't still had Grantaire's arm wrapped around his neck he would have been off for the bar.

"Which one's Feuilly?" Enjolras asked.

"Curly haired guy at the end there. The bald one's a friend of his that he just got hired. I don't think he's going to last very long. I saw him break seven glasses in one evening, and he always mixes my drinks wrong. But since he veers towards a heavy hand with the rum, I can't say I mind. They're both queer and radical too, and the best part about Feuilly is that he's still single. Scuse me, R. I'm going to go see what he's up to after work." Courfeyrac extracted himself from Grantaire's one-armed embrace and made his way to the end of the bar, charming smile in place.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Enjolras might have as well, but he was too distracted watching Grantaire's movements to pay any attention to Courfeyrac. He hoped he might be considered an acceptable substitute for the walking-hug in Courfeyrac's absence, though he knew better than to expect it. Grantaire made his way towards the back of the room where Prouvaire was holding a booth for them, and Enjolras followed after, thinking he might at least get to sit next to Grantaire. He still wasn't expecting substantial physical contact but he figured at least this way there was a chance he could accidentally initiate something.

It would have to be accidental, as casual touches were so far out of Enjolras' comfort zone he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to initiate them, but there was always a possibility he could stumble into something. Maybe he could hand Grantaire a drink and get to brush their fingers together for a fraction of a second...

Fuck, but this was pathetic. Enjolras did not like the feeling of pining.

He squashed into the booth next to Grantaire so that the two of them were facing Prouvaire. Despite the fact that the Corinth had a decidedly different ambiance (for lack of a better word) from their usual haunt, the shy poet had still managed to order a large mug of tea. Upon closer inspection it was a traveler mug and the tea bag was an ancient Lipton, leading Enjolras to the apt conclusion that the dive bar didn't get many requests for that particular beverage.

Despite the shitty quality of his tea, Prouvaire still seemed happy to have it, and the smile he gave his friends was genuine. "Hello, guys! Oh, it's so nice to see you both from this side of finals. How are you doing, Enjolras? Did you last exam go okay?"

"I...I think so." Enjolras squirmed a little under the look Grantaire gave him. "I'm trying not to worry about it. I know I completely botched the last essay but there's a chance my professor won't notice."

Grantaire shook his head in fond exasperation. "I'm sure you're overthinking it. Let's get some drinks, yeah? They must have spiked eggnog. I'm feeling festive."

"I'd figured." Prouvaire reached across the table and flicked the end of the stocking cap. The jingle bell was loud and clear despite the noise of the bar. "I'm fine with my tea for now. I'm a bit of a lightweight, and I want to save my drinks for when 'Ferre gets here. And Enjolras is a teetotaler so you're probably best joining Courfeyrac and his friends over there."

Grantaire turned to Enjolras in some surprise. "Yeah? You really don't drink?"

Enjolras shook his head. "Too many self-medicating alcoholics in the family. I don't want to risk it."

"Ah. Oh, yeah, I can see that. Okay then. I'll be back in a bit." Enjolras got up to let Grantaire out and then squeezed back in by the wall. "Enj, you want me to get you anything else? I can see if they have a second moldering tea bag."

Prouvaire pouted. "I know it doesn't look that great but it tastes fine."

"Yeah, hot water does that when you drown it in sugar. Enj?"

"Um...coke, I guess?"

"Sure. Be right back." Grantaire flashed him a smile that looked a little shy and then took off for the bar where, from the looks of it, his hat was greeted with much interest and amusement.

"Courfeyrac's trying to go home with the bartender tonight," Enjolras said by way of conversation.

Prouvaire didn't look at all surprised to hear it. "I don't know if he's making any headway there. He was much more successful the other night when it was slow in here and his flirting wasn't hampering Feuilly while he worked. I think he's just annoying him right now." Enjolras swiveled in his seat until he had a good view of the bar and nodded his agreement. "Feuilly's really nice, by the way. We want to try to collect him for our Musain meetups. He's not at school so he doesn't need to meet up and do homework but he's always reading for this Marxist reading group he goes to, so he wouldn't be disruptive."

Enjolras eyed the bartender with new interest. "Yes, let's collect him."

Prouvaire let out an excited squeal. "I'll go tell him we have designs on his friendship."

"Make sure you say it just like that. It doesn't sound creepy at all."

"I know you're being sarcastic, but that's actually exactly how I phrased it to Combeferre when I met him and that's worked out splendidly." Prouvaire stuck out his tongue at Enjolras, then got up and skipped up to the bar. 

Enjolras leaned against the wall and relaxed, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with the end of exams. He wouldn't be reburdened with schoolwork until mid-January, and in the meantime he could read whatever he damn well felt like. The only thing really weighing on his mind was studying for the GREs, and even that was a bit premature. He wouldn't have to actually take them for another year or so.

Combeferre walked in shortly thereafter. Considering the rest of their friends were still clustered at the bar he missed Enjolras entirely and headed over to join them. He remained behind even when Grantaire and Prouvaire went back to the booth.

Prouvaire's good mood had clearly evaporated. Enjolras guessed his line about friendship must not have gone over well, which meant a period of withdrawal was going to follow as a natural consequence of the shy young man's rare burst of outgoing good humor not being received the way he'd like. It usually didn't last very long. Rather than draw attention to it, Enjolras accepted his glass of coke from Grantaire and politely thanked him. Their fingers just managed to avoid touching, which annoyed Enjolras to no end.

"There we go. Soda for the teetotaler and an eggnog the handsome bartender assured me was rich with alcoholic holiday cheer. And it looks like a phone number for Combeferre, so really I'd say this is a successful start to the night."

"Mm...wait, what?" Enjolras snapped his head over to the bar in some surprise. Courfeyrac was standing off to the side looking rather put out, while Combeferre leaned against the counter, the curly haired bartender very much in his personal space. It was hard to tell from the distance, but it appeared they were indeed trading phone numbers. Feuilly was definitely tapping something that looked like a smartphone.

"Jehan, are you...?" Enjolras wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. He wasn't sure how much he was even supposed to know of Prouvaire's feelings. They'd all be inferred as a Courfeyrac-insight, not anything clearly stated to the group. 

"It's fine. I'm fine." His skin had the pallor of sour milk. Prouvaire reached for his mug and hunched over it, eyes downcast but still trying to smile as though that would fool anyone. "My own fault. Never said anything, you know? I never say anything so this always happens. I'm fine. Very well practiced, you know."

Grantaire's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh. Oh...man. Um...well, if it helps it's probably meaningless. I think Feuilly might be one of the guys Courfeyrac met through Grindr. Y'know, so it's not necessarily a long term sort of thing. I'm not helping, am I?"

Prouvaire let out a humorless laugh. "Courfeyrac is the sort to do fun little trysts but that's never been something Combeferre has sought. If he's expressing an interest in Feuilly, he likely has designs on more than friendship. R, it's fine. I-I'm used to this. It's not like I was ever going to say anything. It's my own fault." He sighed deeply. "I keep entertaining all these romantic notions that maybe someday someone else will make the first move but clearly that's never going to happen. I wish I were more outgoing. I just don't know how to convey those sorts of things without feeling like I'm making a fool of myself."

"Same," Enjolras said. He turned a dark look towards his glass of soda, mentally berating himself for not being able to even ghost his fingers over Grantaire's.

"Wow. You guys make flirting sound like the fucking scariest thing ever. It's not a root canal you know. Some guys even think it's fun."

"I'm too anxious," Prouvaire said, smiling sadly. "Courfeyrac tried to be my wingman once. It was pretty terrible. I just can't loosen up like he does. I just stammer out literary analysis until I'm too nervous to talk at all."

"The literary analysis is much more endearing than you'd expect. At least compared to radical social politics," Enjolras said. "Guys do _not_ find that sexy, if you were curious."

"Maybe you're talking to the wrong guys," Grantaire said. "Personally, I think you're very hot when you get going on a good rant. Your activist groove is plenty sexy."

"Well, you'd be the first person in the history of ever that it's worked on," Enjolras said. He thought about reaching over and taking Grantaire's hand. It was sitting right there on the table next to him. He ultimately decided against it and went back to moodily staring at his soda instead, watching the bubbles rise.

The night took a decidedly somber turn after that. Courfeyrac eventually gave up on talking to Feuilly, but he only remained with them in the booth for a few minutes. After that he was floating around the room meeting people and flirting it up. Under the mistaken impression that it might help Prouvaire out of his sulk if he met someone to take his mind off Combeferre, he tried introducing him to one of the guys he'd been chatting up. Prouvaire managed to choke exactly two almost words out around his constricted throat before beating a hasty retreat for the men's room.

Combeferre never left the bar, always waiting for Feuilly to have a minute between customers so they could keep flirting. He really must have had no idea that his friend cared for him. He was normally so attuned to Prouvaire's moods and needs (almost the way Grantaire was with Enjolras) but he hadn't even noticed the kid was having a panic attack in the bathroom.

Grantaire tended to Prouvaire as best he could. Enjolras left him to it, fully aware that he himself was much too blunt and sharp to talk to Prouvaire when he was panicky. After a good twenty minutes Grantaire came out of the bathroom alone and pulled Enjolras aside. He looked unusually serious and a bit nervous, reminding Enjolras instantly of the Grantaire he'd encountered one-on-one in the man's apartment.

"The little poet's not doing so hot. I'm going to walk him home."

"Did you want me to go with you?"

"No," Grantaire said quickly, sounding sharp to Enjolras' ears. His hurt must have shown because he amended his statement. "He doesn't want to be alone, but he said he doesn't want to be around a lot of people either. I think this had better be just the two of us. Y'know, like when you come over to my place?"

"Yeah..." Enjolras nodded. "I get it. Do you...do that for a lot of people?"

Grantaire shrugged. "Just the important ones. Um, before I get going...you're not, like, going home for Christmas, right?"

Enjolras shook his head. "I live here. My parents are only the next town over and I've been released from the Christmas obligation of actually seeing them."

"Oh..." He hoped he wasn't imagining the way Grantaire's eyes lit up, despite the fact that the rest of his face appeared carefully guarded. "Okay. Want to get breakfast tomorrow? I'd wanted to ask you something, but now I've got to go tend to Jehan."

"Sure. Shoot me a text when you're up."

He definitely wasn't imagining the way Grantaire's whole face lit up with that smile, stupid, infuriating crush be damned. "Cool. See you tomorrow then." His arms flapped uselessly for a second, like he'd considered hugging Enjolras but then thought better of it. He turned tail and ran and a few minutes later he and Prouvaire made their slow, measured progress out of the bar, Prouvaire looking very pale and breathing in a careful, controlled manner while Grantaire bracingly patted his back and counted. 

Enjolras considered leaving then and there. He didn't want to interrupt Combeferre, Courfeyrac was still trying to pick up men, and the only other people he could talk to had already left. He approached the bar, figuring he might as well say goodnight to Combeferre first (and hello for that matter).

"Oh hey," Feuilly greeted. "You're one of the guys with designs on my friendship, right?" He had a very handsome smile and intelligent looking brown eyes. Enjolras could see why so many of his friends were infatuated with him.

"Yes. My name's Enjolras."

"Feuilly. Nice to meet you."

Enjolras had gotten over to them during a lull and, somewhat against his wishes (he had an irrational impulse to dislike Feuilly on Prouvaire's behalf) he ended up talking to Feuilly and Combeferre for nearly an hour. His petulance melted in the face of a friendly disposition and similar interests. Before he'd realized it he'd agreed to go to one of Feuilly's Marxism meetings and accompany him to a demonstration at city hall about the refugee crisis.

Well, it's not like it was Feuilly's fault he'd broken Prouvaire's heart. But it still would have been much more convenient for Enjolras if the man weren't so damn likable. 

Courfeyrac pulled up a barstool next to them while they were having a friendly debate about the efficacy of petitions and interrupted them by banging his head against the counter. "I give up. The planets must have aligned against me. No one even halfway decent looking wants to hook up."

"You are aware that you're not actually in a gay bar, right?" Feuilly asked. "A lot of the men here are just straight."

"It's true," Enjolras said. "Really, I think it says a lot about the progress we've made regarding gay rights in the last decade that you haven't become the victim of a hate crime tonight."

"Yeah, I did get a few 'flattered but spoken for's and 'flattered but I don't swing that way's. Urgh...Feuilly, can I have one of those eggnog things you made R? Where'd he go, anyway? He's normally a much more attentive wingman than this."

"He and Jehan left about an hour ago."

"Really?" Combeferre frowned, then glanced back at the booth. "Is everything okay?"

Enjolras debated how much to say. It seemed best to be as truthful as possible, but balancing the truth with tact. "He...wasn't feeling great. You know, anxiety-wise. R's taking care of it. He's pretty good with that sort of thing."

"Oh. I just...he barely talked to me tonight. I was expecting him to at least say goodbye. You know, considering we're not going to see each other again until January."

"Text him," Courfeyrac suggested. "Maybe you can meet him for breakfast before he gets the train tomorrow. I don't think he's leaving until noon."

Enjolras watched Feuilly out of the corner of his eye while he was ostensibly talking to Combeferre. It didn't look like the guy was reacting at all to their conversation, but it was hard to really tell since he was also mixing Courfeyrac's drink. "There you go. Something that can nominally be referred to as eggnog but is mostly alcohol."

"You're a dear." Courfeyrac toasted him and then took a sip. "Mmm...yes, this will do."

"I'm going to head in. I made plans with Grantaire for the morning so I should probably avoid a late night."

"Oh...?" Courfeyrac looked at him hopefully.

"We're just getting breakfast."

Courfeyrac scowled. "Well at least try to act like you like him. It's almost like you're  _trying_ to be bad at this."

"Yes, Courfeyrac. You've unraveled our conspiracy. Your friends are all acting like they're terrible at romance just to annoy you." Enjolras said goodbye to Combeferre and Feuilly and left the bar, with the secret intention of acting on Courfeyrac's advice to the best of his socially inept ability. 


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras woke up in an off mood. The apartment was too quiet; Combeferre must have left earlier than he'd originally intended. Enjolras hoped he was out having breakfast with Prouvaire. He really wanted that situation to work itself out.

He didn't like being in the apartment by himself. Combeferre wasn't noisy by any stretch of the imagination, but all the same, he had a way of making his presence known. When Enjolras ventured out into the kitchen with a small fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders and slipper socks on his feet, the empty table struck him as very lonely. The coffee maker was still clean which was odd. Combeferre was just as caffeine-dependent as Enjolras. He usually had at least one cup of coffee before leaving the house, even when he was actually meeting someone for coffee.

Enjolras set the coffee maker, then sat down at the table with his phone. He was intending to text Combeferre and ask him where he was but he didn't need to bother. He had messages waiting for him and the first one from his absent roommate. <Hey, I'm just going to crash with Feuilly tonight. If I don't see you before I head out, Merry Christmas.>

“Okay...so not going to meet Jehan for breakfast then.”

The remaining texts were from Grantaire. The first one had been sent at five thirty.

<Hey Enj. Good morning :) >

The next two were from five forty five.

<I just realized that you're probably not awake yet. This has gotta be my insomnia being weird.>

<I should probably stop texting you. You're trying to sleep. Sorry.>

The last ones had been sent around seven.

<Okay so I've been thinking and we probably shouldn't do breakfast. I'll see you when I see you.>

<Sorry, I've been thinking too much. One of those mornings, you know?>

<Jean's fine, btw. It's not about that. So don't worry.>

<Sorry for bugging you. Maybe Musain later?>

Enjolras wasn't sure what to make of the texts. He decided against even trying to decode them before his first cup of coffee and sent Combeferre a text instead. <You in Rhode Island yet?>

<Nope. Home in five mins.>

Enjolras glanced at the clock on the stove. “It's almost ten. Huh.”

When the coffee finished he grabbed a second mug, and when Combeferre walked in a few minutes later his favorite mug was sitting on the table in front of his usual chair, creamed and sugared to his preference.

He was wearing the same clothes as the previous night and his hair was sticking up. Enjolras had never seen him look less than impeccably groomed before. He realized he was staring and hoped he could blame it on his state of under-caffeination. 

The hickey and beard burn on his neck were pretty damn distracting.

“Oh, what?” Combeferre grabbed his mug and frowned defensively. “What's with that look?”

“What look?” Enjolras snapped, equally defensively. “This is my 'I haven't ingested enough coffee to function' look. I'm not judging you. Why would I judge you?”

“Indeed. Why ever would you do a thing like that?”

Enjolras took a slow sip of coffee and pointedly set the mug on the table. “I'm happy for you. Feuilly seems nice.”

“You don't look happy.”

“I probably look sleepy. Are you seeing him again?”

“Yes. Well, I'd like to. We didn't really...we didn't really discuss. But the general intention is there. Shut up. I haven't had enough coffee for functionality yet either.”

They silently drank their coffee for a few minutes and Enjolras used the time to get his thoughts in order.

“You know I don't actually care that you hooked up last night, right?”

Combeferre frowned. “I know. I mean, if you took issue with casual sex you couldn't be friends with Courfeyrac. Which is why I'm confused. I swear, you're upset with me for some reason. Jehan too. He never answered my text, so I guess I'm just not seeing him until New Year's.” Combeferre scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Every time I think I know what's going on with that guy he throws another curve ball at me. I should probably just give up on ever trying to understand him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...okay, this might sound egotistical but hear me out. I'd thought Jehan liked me.”

Enjolras wanted to _shake_ him. “...yes. Go on.” His tone must have come across as skeptical because Combeferre rushed to elaborate.

“It's just, you know he always sort of paid special attention to me. And I returned it. You know, going for walks together, always sitting next to each other, that sort of thing. He even wrote me a couple of poems about our friendship.”

Enjolras hadn't known about those, but he was willing to bet the poems probably had a little more emotion behind them than just friendship. “'Ferre, I don't think it was at all far fetched for you to think Jehan liked you. What made you think he didn't?”

“The way he is with R. They're always going on those friend dates. And...because of the...the anxiety stuff? I don't know. I think they just get each other in a way I'm never going to.” Combeferre pensively cast his gaze downward, focusing on his coffee. “They seem happy together, so I'm trying not to sulk too much. I want to be friends with Jehan, after all.”

“Wait a minute. Jehan and Grantaire are not dating.”

“No, but I'm pretty sure they will be. It's only a matter of time.”

“'Ferre, they don't like each other like that. They're close because they have some of the same mental illnesses and it's comforting to talk about it with someone else who's been there. But there's nothing romantic going on.”

“That's what Courf says, but I don't agree. Jehan's different when he's around Grantaire. It's...he's never been that way with me. I'd thought we had something special but I was clearly mistaken. Anyway, no harm, no foul. When he's ready, he and R will evolve their friendship into the direction it's clearly progressing, and I think I've got a good shot at having a real relationship with Feuilly. We're very compatible. Last night wasn't even all sex. We spent a good chunk of the night talking about civil disobedience. He's had a lot more actual experience with protests than we have. God, Enjolras, and he's so good looking. I can't help but feel I've done well for myself.”

His smile looked like something Courfeyrac would label schmoopy, and he looked perkier and more awake just for thinking of his new flame.

Enjolras tried to hide what he was sure was a concerned and probably severer expression than he meant by slowly sipping from his novelty sized mug of coffee. He wasn't sure what to do here. Combeferre's self-esteem wasn't really all that much better than some of their other friends. He'd never seen himself as a catch. He wasn't ugly by any means, but he was a little plainer looking than the others, and a fashion sense that strayed towards unironic sweater vests and slacks didn't help matters any. He thought he was too quiet and nerdy to be of interest to anyone. It was a nice change to see him excited about a romantic prospect, and to an extent Prouvaire was right. He hadn't said anything; Combeferre and Feuilly weren't doing anything wrong by acting on their attraction to each other.

Romantic pursuits weren't his strong suit. Enjolras decided to stay out of it. In all likelihood, Courfeyrac would do enough meddling for the both of them.

"So what about you? Are you meeting up with R today?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras threw a scathing look at his phone. "I can't tell. He sent me some weird texts. It looks like he had another bad night with his insomnia and he spent the morning getting progressively more paranoid."

"Oh." Combeferre scanned the texts. "Yeah, that looks like a fair guess. Maybe you should just show up at his place with cocoa or something."

"Mm. He's usually better at talking to me when we're at his apartment. I think that must be related to the anxiety and depression. Safe space, and all."

"Makes sense. Jehan's the same way. I always have a much better time talking to him in his living room or kitchen. Argh, I should have suggested breakfast at his place instead of going to that diner. Then he'd probably have texted me back."

"His train's not leaving until noon. It's not too late to act on that thought."

Combeferre bit his lip thoughtfully as he considered it. "I would really like to see him before I leave. I don't know though...seeking him out for more private time doesn't seem like the best choice when I'm trying to get over him and pursue something with someone else. Maybe it's a good thing he's not texting me."

Enjolras shook his head and finished off the last of his coffee. "Well, I'm going to take a shower. Are you still going to be here when I get out?"

"Yeah. I mean, I need to get going soon if I want to avoid traffic, but I should still be here for the length of an environmentally-friendly shower."

"You might want to consider showering before you meet up with your parents too."

Combeferre gave his shirt a quick sniff and then grinned. "Oh, it kind of smells like him."

"Yes...and some less pleasant odors as well." 

Combeferre didn't seem to hear him. He looked pleasantly dazed when Enjolras left the room to get ready.

* * *

 Enjolras saw Combeferre off (frustratingly enough, without the kid making any kind of effort to contact Prouvaire before he left), and then he made his way downtown to finish off a little Christmas shopping. He texted a picture of the bakecase at the Musain to Grantaire, complete with frosted holiday sugar cookies, and sent him a question mark.

Grantaire responded with a picture of his fuzzy sock clad feet sticking out from a considerable blanket burrito. The accompanying text read, <Not having a great day.>

<Can I bring you anything?>

Grantaire's reply was a little long in coming. Enjolras was nearly done with his own snack before he got a hesitantly worded request for a cookie.

He arrived at Grantaire's apartment shortly thereafter, a reusable tote bag of his last minute purchases hanging off his arm and a cocoa and bagged cookie for Grantaire carefully held in his hands.

Grantaire did indeed look drawn and tired when he let Enjolras in. He didn't say anything. Enjolras rightly guessed that the smile he mustered had taken him a lot of effort, and he appreciated it. He followed Grantaire upstairs but remained hovering in the doorway while Grantaire re-wrapped himself in the blanket cocoon.

"Is it okay if I stay for a little while or would you rather be alone? I don't mind, either way."

"I know. Thanks, by the way." His voice was quiet and scratchy, almost like the way it sounded the night they met with one important difference. There was an undercurrent of warmth and affection it hadn't carried before. "You can stay. I-I did want to see you today, but I don't think I'm up for much talking."

"Tending to Jehan's panic attack took a lot out of you, huh?"

Grantaire nodded. "I didn't quite realize how bad it was affecting me until it was already too late. But I don't care. He's such a good kid, you know? It feels like a privilege to get to help him."

Enjolras finished unwrapping himself from his outerwear and then remembered how cold Grantaire's apartment always was. He was half-tempted to put his coat back on, but Grantaire was making space for him on the mattress. He quickly ducked into the blanket burrito and handed Grantaire his cocoa and cookie. "I got you the snowman. It's got hipster glasses. I thought you'd like that." Although upon further reflection, maybe that was more of a Courfeyrac choice.

Grantaire quietly thanked him again and bit off the snowman's head. He offered Enjolras a bite of the belly, which he declined since he'd already had an ugly sweater cookie earlier.

So far Enjolras had preserved a respectful inch or so of distance between them, despite the tempting proximity the blankets offered them. Now that he was completely aware of the crush his initial attraction had developed into he wasn't as confident about their cuddling. He figured at the very least Grantaire would probably want use of his arms while he was having the snack.

His inference was right. Once Grantaire had finished with the cookie and cocoa he snuggled into Enjolras' arms and let out a contented sigh. "I'm so glad you swung by. I definitely needed the hug."

"Glad I could help." Enjolras stroked his fingers through Grantaire's messy hair, lamenting the fact that their physical intimacy was so situation-specific. He would have liked to be able to hug Grantaire when neither of them were having an anxious day too.

He wondered if Grantaire hugged Prouvaire when either of them were feeling off. 

That was a stupid, petty thought to have. Grantaire hugged all his other friends when he was feeling absolutely fine, let alone when he was upset.

"You okay, Enj?" Grantaire pulled away just enough so he could see Enjolras' face, a pointless gesture since his pretty blue eyes remained focused somewhere in the vicinity of Enjolras' chin.

"Fine, mostly." 

"Mostly...?"

Enjolras sighed, and substituted one of his other problems for the one that was actually on his mind. "I'm not really looking forward to a week without my roommate. I don't actually want to spend Christmas with my parents, but this isn't exactly ideal either."

"Well I'm free all week. I know the slacker cynic isn't your favorite company, but on the plus side, I'm not anyone else's first pick for holiday hang outs either so I'm free literally all of the time."

"R...I'd actually really like that."

"What?"

"Spending Christmas with you. I wish you wouldn't insult yourself all the time. You act like your company is some kind of punishment but you are actually one of my favorite people to spend time with." He would have felt that way on the strength of their friendship alone, so despite his stupid infatuation Enjolras managed to pay the compliment without a hint of a blush.

Grantaire's eyes very briefly raised to the level of Enjolras' face, likely scrutinizing him for sincerity, and then dropped to his hands, which were nervously wringing one of the blankets. "I...I'm not really sure what to say."

"That's okay. We can be done talking, if you'd like."

"Yes please. For a little while, anyway. I'm going to grab a book. Would you like one or did you bring your own?"

Enjolras grinned. "You know me so well. I've got three with me, but just for the novelty of it I think I'll pick out one of yours." He went for the pile by the bookshelf and, after a few minutes' perusal returned to the blanket nest with a scholarly work on the Black Death. Grantaire snorted at his choice. He'd picked a Murakami novel for himself.

Enjolras arranged the pillows against the wall so that he could sit up comfortably, and Grantaire settled against his chest. They read their respective books in a serene silence, blankets keeping out most of the chill, and only slightly distracted by the other's warmth pressed against them.

* * *

If Enjolras thought that first morning waking up in an empty apartment was bad, he knew the second day of it was going to be worse. At least this time he'd thought to preset the coffeemaker so that it smelled right.

He almost took out the extra mug for Combeferre out of habit, and quickly stowed it back among the others. With a lonely, defeated sigh, Enjolras sat down with his own coffee and his laptop and scrolled through his FB feed. He saw cheerful posts about what his friends were up to. There was a picture of Prouvaire standing in front of a beautifully decorated Victorian-themed Christmas tree with his older sister. Both of them were wearing matching knitted scarves. He found pictures of Courfeyrac building snowmen with his nieces and nephews, and a picture of Combeferre sitting in front of the fireplace with his grandmother.

Enjolras looked around the kitchen which, like the rest of his apartment, looked far from festive. He desperately needed to do dishes, the floor hadn't been mopped in a few months, and nearly every surface was covered with end-of-semester clutter. Enjolras' family home was likely immaculately cleaned and catalog-level decorated, although that had never really appealed to him. His house always looked more like a magazine clipping than a real, lived-in home.

No, he was happy to be in the apartment. He just missed his friends.

"I should get a cat," he whispered, partly just to hear his own voice.

'Or you could call R,' he thought to himself, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Courfeyrac.

He finished his coffee and spent the morning tidying up instead. Thinking of the charming looking pictures of his friends' houses he'd just seen, he decided to venture out to the store and get at least a Christmas-tree scented candle to brighten the place up.

Enjolras was nearly to the mall when he saw a sight that made him pull over. Grantaire was walking along the sidewalk with his ridiculous stocking cap, brandishing a miniature Christmas tree like a sword. The tree was a sad little thing. It looked like it had probably come from the top of someone else's tree. He had a mini tree stand tucked under his other arm.

Enjolras rolled down the window and waved him over. "Want a ride?"

"Sure. Is it okay if I tuck this in the backseat? Some of the needles are probably gonna fall onto the seat."

"It's fine." Maybe some of the scent would linger in the car. "Why on earth did you buy that little thing anyway?"

"To make my apartment look a little less sad. It was only five bucks. I'd say there's at least five bucks worth of cheer in this thing." Grantaire set the tree down and then got into the passenger seat. "So what are you up to?"

Enjolras frowned. "I was...thinking of getting a few Christmas decorations. To make my apartment less sad looking."

Grantaire smirked. "I think we ought to team up. We're both lonely and sick of our completely non-festive living spaces, right?"

"Makes sense. I vote we stay at my place though."

"I've got cocoa," Grantaire argued.

"I've got cocoa _and_ heat included in my utilities."

Grantaire pretended to consider. "Fine. As long as you're still okay with blanket cocoons and cuddles even in a heated apartment."

Enjolras laughed and nodded his agreement, glad to see Grantaire's mood had improved so substantially in just the short space of a day.

He drove to Grantaire's so he could pack a few things, and then they went to Enjolras' apartment to set up the tree in its stand and water it. Grantaire only had miniature candy canes on hand to decorate it with, so they ventured out to the mall to pick out a few decorations.

It was like a real life illustration of the Peanuts Christmas special. The tree continued to be small and dropping needles by the second, but with the small attentions of a tree skirt and a few ornaments it really did look remarkably festive. Grantaire cut out some snowflake ornaments from some scrap paper he snagged from the recycling bin, and Enjolras put the few sadly wrapped presents he'd gotten around the tree. He lit the evergreen scented jar candle he'd purchased and set it in the center of the coffee table.

"This is much better," he muttered, mostly to himself though Grantaire loudly agreed.

"We just need one more thing."

"What?"

"Cocoa. Cocoa and candy canes, preferably, but I put the last of my stash on the tree and I think they look too good there to eat them first thing. Also, we need to take a picture of it to show up Courfeyrac. He had the nerve to say he was going to have a better Christmas than me. Personally, I think snuggling and watching bad Christmas movies sounds way better than running around after a bunch of small children."

"Courfeyrac's sister's kids aren't that bad."

Grantaire filled the kettle and set it on the stove while he was talking. "I actually really like spending time with kids, but keep that to yourself. It'd destroy my cynic cred if it got out that I liked children. But I'd still rather be here with you anyway. It's...shit, I'm one of those statistics you always worry about over the holiday season. So thanks for inviting me over. I, I was getting worried about being alone for too long."

It took a second for the full meaning of Grantaire's words to penetrate, and Enjolras suddenly remembered him mentioning his Seasonal Affective Disorder. "Oh. Oh, don't worry. I wasn't exactly enraptured with the idea of being alone. How...how have you been? I mean, other than yesterday. Better than...when we met?"

Grantaire slowly nodded. He put a lot of attention on finding just the right mugs, which conveniently had him avoiding eye contact. "I haven't had another night like that since. Having non-internet friends has made a huge difference. I'd been meaning to say something, actually." He set the mugs on the counter but remained facing away from Enjolras. "You really did save my life, you know. I don't know if you really get how much I mean that, but it's sadly true. I'm not exaggerating at all. Everything's just...it's so much better now. I'm so glad you ran out into the rain to find me."

"Me too." Enjolras remained by the doorway, not wanting to intrude on Grantaire's space. They hadn't talked about that night since it happened. He hadn't seen that kind of vulnerability from Grantaire once since then, and he didn't want to upset him by saying the wrong thing. "I...I'm really happy you're my friend. I'm sorry. That sounds stupid and cliche, it's just, it's true. I can't think of any other way to say it. If you ever...if you're ever having one of those nights again, first off I hope you'll tell me and let me help you, but secondly please remember that I would miss you so much if anything happened to you. I'd..." His throat suddenly wouldn't work right.

It had been a real fear he'd been sitting on for some time.

"Enjolras, hey." Grantaire walked over to him and grasped his hand. "I'm fine. I'm right here and I'm _fine_. More than fine, even. I think this might be what happiness is like." He smiled, crooked bottom teeth just barely visible. "It's pretty sweet."

"Yeah," Enjolras said softly. "I could get used to this."

Enjolras wasn't sure how long they stood there just holding hands and smiling at each other, but they both jumped when the kettle whistled. Grantaire snatched his hand away and returned to the important, non-emotional business of fixing their cocoa.

A few minutes later, when they were sitting on the sofa with a truly terrible Christmas movie playing, Enjolras thought about how he'd promised Courfeyrac he was going to say something to Grantaire about his feelings.

He watched Grantaire for a moment. He looked truly happy in a way Enjolras had yet to see him. There was an openness and honesty about his emotions that was usually absent in the wake of all the emotional armor he wore just to have the strength to leave his bed. Enjolras didn't want to do anything to risk that. For all he knew he was reading everything wrong and all Grantaire wanted from him was friendship. Considering what he'd just said about the holidays and how loneliness hit him, it seemed safest to leave the emotional revelation for another day.

Spending Christmas with a close friend was pretty fabulous in its own right, after all. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update for now. I promise not to leave you guys with an unhappy ending for that long. I've got to write the Christmas part soon, after all...
> 
> (so be warned - this chapter ends unhappily)

"Hey, isn't there supposed to be a cat around here?"

Enjolras was lost in a pretty heavy cloud of sleep amnesia. He had no idea why he was sleeping on the couch instead of his warm, comfortable bed (though that did explain the aches in his back and neck), and he was pretty baffled by the unconventionally attractive guy with the messy hair standing over him inquiring about cats.

"H-huh...?"

"Oh, you are fucking adorable first thing in the morning." Grantaire was either grinning at him or at his expense. It was hard to be sure which.

At least the sleep-fog was starting to dissipate. "You're...staying over for Christmas..."

"Wow, you sound drunk. Not a morning person, huh?" Grantaire sat down on the arm of the couch. He was only wearing a faded band t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Enjolras didn't want to be staring at his legs, but the guy had a pretty impressive tattoo covering most of his left thigh. The line work was mesmerizing. He would have been staring even if the thigh itself weren't very nicely shaped (which it was).

Typically, when Enjolras had been hanging out with Grantaire they'd both been covered head to toe in bulky layers. He'd never seen that much of his crush's body before. He'd known Grantaire had a considerable amount of tattoos - it was something he and Courfeyrac talked about from time to time, but he'd never realized exactly how many there were or really thought about how all that ink might look. Other than the thigh piece, Grantaire had nearly finished sleeves on both arms, a good sized one on the back of his left hand, a little one just behind his ear, and a few random ones on his calves and feet. He also remembered him and Courfeyrac discussing a work in progress on his back, which left Enjolras wondering how many more were covered by the t-shirt and boxers.

Well, Enjolras was definitely going to stop worrying about Grantaire's finances. If he could afford that much ink, he definitely wasn't poor. He just had a weird sense of how to prioritize his budget.

He also wasn't as underweight as Enjolras had feared. There was a wiry strength to his build. He must have worked out, because he had actual muscle tone.

Enjolras sat up and yawned. He realized how rudely he'd been staring at Grantaire and, with some effort, tore his gaze from his scantily clad crush. "What time is it?"

"Dunno. Maybe seven?"

"Seven? R, we went to bed at three." Grantaire looked at him blankly. "I need more than four hours of sleep to function."

"Clearly. Fine, before you go back to sleep can you tell me about the cat though? I swear, Jehan was petting a cat when I was here the last time."

"Yeah..." Enjolras rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. "Her name's Grim, for grimalkin. She's Combeferre's. Ferre took her home with him for Christmas because I apparently cannot be trusted to keep other living things alive since I can barely take care of myself. Did you make coffee?"

"Mm hm."

"Hm. I could be awake now."

Grantaire slunk off to the kitchen while Enjolras rubbed at his eyes some more as though that would actually do anything. He slowly extracted himself from the tangled blankets around his feet. Grantaire had slept in the papasan chair, and even if one weren't prone to insomnia that couldn't have made for a restful sleep. They'd have to actually make the effort to turn off the Netflix and get into bed next time.

He was about to follow Grantaire into the kitchen but was saved the trouble by him appearing with two blessedly full coffee mugs. "You sure you don't want to go back to bed? I can make more coffee when you're really awake. I honestly wasn't expecting you to wake up when I asked about the cat. I was mostly talking to myself."

Enjolras grabbed the mug and savored his first slow sip of caffeine. He could always nap later. If he went to bed now there was a good chance Grantaire would be wearing clothes when he woke up again, and that would be tragic.

It's not that Grantaire was particularly hot, not really...Enjolras remembered thinking he looked like a bit of a train wreck the first time he'd seen him, and there were vestiges of wreck that clung to him still...but the better Enjolras got to know him the more attractive he found him. He was aware of superficial things that never really struck him before, and it made him wonder about stupid little things he'd never paid attention to about his own appearance, like if his bedhead looked silly or charmingly disheveled. He wondered if he looked nearly as attractive in his pajamas as Grantaire did in the boxers and t-shirt. Probably not, since he was lurching around the house like a zombie. And his pajama pants had a hideous rainbow kitten print since they'd been purchased for him as gag gift by Courfeyrac.

He'd have to remember to dress more carefully now that he was contemplating a seduction. His looks could become an asset, and he'd need all the help he could get to counteract his bluntness and awkwardness. With how deeply he'd fallen for Grantaire he was willing to take advantage of the superficial. He wouldn't be proud of himself, but if it helped...

Grantaire sat down on the arm of the couch and sipped at his coffee. He bobbed one of his legs anxiously, eyes flitting periodically from Enjolras to all manner of objects around the room. "Um...like, what did you want to do today? More Netflix and stuff?"

"I dunno. I hadn't really thought about it." He'd have to come up with something though. It looked like sitting around a quiet house with his thoughts for too long had gotten to Grantaire. He looked twitchy. 

"Oh. Yeah, I'll put something on. It's too quiet in here." Yep. Definitely twitchy.

And this situation was pretty much what Enjolras had been afraid of. Without the rest of the group to help them along, Enjolras and Grantaire were really bad at talking to each other. They'd sat in an awkward silence most of the night before, using Netflix as a buffer between them, and it looked like more of the same for the next two days.

Grantaire picked out a TV show and then settled on the couch with Enjolras' blanket wrapped around him. Enjolras took a few more sips of coffee and then sat down next to him. Even though Grantaire had been vibrating with anxiety-fueled energy just moments before, he calmed to a sluggish sort of relaxation once the TV was on and providing background noise.

Enjolras must have nodded off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again the room was brighter. His coffee mug was sitting on the table instead of clutched in his hands, and he was cuddled up to Grantaire's side. His cheek was resting on Grantaire's chest, one lithely muscled arm wrapped around him as he dozed. Grantaire's t-shirt smelled like smoke and BO, but for some reason Enjolras breathed deeply even though under normal circumstances he wouldn't have called that odor pleasant.

"Hey," Grantaire whispered. "Ready to actually wake up this time?"

Enjolras pretended to consider. "That depends...if I'm really awake do I have to get off of you?"

Grantaire laughed. "My leg's asleep. Here, I'll make you another cup of coffee and when I'm done we can cuddle again. How's that sound? And this time I'm going to keep the remote right next to me in case you fall asleep again."

Enjolras looked at the TV and saw the familiar 'is anyone watching?' screen. He blinked a few times and sat up straight. "How long have I been sleeping on you?"

Grantaire shrugged. He looked a little embarrassed, and rather than answer, ambled out of the room to go make the coffee. Enjolras would have brooded over it more, but he was distracted by his and Grantaire's phones chiming with new texts. He opened his, and read a strongly worded text from Courfeyrac telling him to make a move already. The timing seemed suspicious. He didn't want to snoop, but Grantaire's phone was sitting  _right there_ on the coffee table, and he could read part of the message without opening it...

He couldn't help but snort when he confirmed that Courfeyrac had in fact sent them the exact same message, not bothering to reword it to tailor it to their specific dysfunctions. 

"What's so funny?" Grantaire stuck his head back into the room. Enjolras could just barely hear the coffee maker gurgling to life.

"We got texts." He tossed Grantaire his phone. Grantaire opened the text and frowned. "We got exactly the same text. Has Courf been trying to peer pressure you into asking me out too then?" He said it lightly, hoping they might make a joke of it. Even though Enjolras had resolved against saying anything during the holidays, this seemed like a pretty easy way to address his feelings.

"Uh, yeah...pretty much since we met." Grantaire ran a hand through his hair. He took a look at the easy smile on Enjolras' face, then quickly jerked his focus back to his phone screen. The smile slipped from Enjolras' face and he felt knots start to form in his stomach. Grantaire looked many things, but amused was not among them. "I'd thought...I'd thought he was bullshitting me. I mean, you're like a really good friend and everything, but you don't like me like that, do you?" His face had gone bright red, pretty blue eyes glued to his phone while he nervously chewed on his lip.

"Actually, yes. I do."

"Oh. Wait, _what_?"

Enjolras frowned and looked down at his hands. Grantaire's response wasn't as encouraging as an anxious loner with little to no dating experience might have hoped. He didn't sound happy about the revelation. Terrified, somewhat betrayed, maybe even angry, but not happy. "I like you a lot," Enjolras said, hoping his voice didn't sound as weak and ridiculous to Grantaire as it did to him.

"Then why haven't you said anything?"

"Well why haven't you?" Enjolras returned, addressing Grantaire's feet.

"I don't know. It just seemed stupid, you liking me. You've got your shit together and you're going places and you're fucking  _gorgeous_. Like, like why would I even be on your radar? I can't even wrap my head around our friendship most days. It's fucking inexplicable."

"That's part of why I wasn't saying anything," Enjolras said, still mostly talking to Grantaire's feet although he was sneaking peeks at his completely unencouraging expression. "You're so weird around me. And I know you're still not doing very well. I thought you might need a friend more than...well, a boyfriend. And I make a really shitty boyfriend, to be honest. I've never held down a relationship for more than a few weeks. But I do like you. I can't explain it entirely, I just do. You're so interesting, and it's really brave, how you're dealing with your demons and getting through everything and getting your life together even without any help from your family. I know you think you're not doing as well as me and Jehan but you're also fighting a lot more stuff with a lot less help. I think you're amazing."

"So what, I interest you because of what a sad fucking broken bird I am? I don't need your pity, Enjolras."

"That's not what I..."

"You like me because of all the bullshit I'm drowning under, right? Wait, no, sorry, because I'm not _entirely_ drowning in bullshit. Would it make you feel better if you got to save me? That idea get you all hot and bothered? Or is it just comforting, the thought that at least I'm not as screwed up as you are. Then you don't have to worry so much about your issues, right?" That one landed like a physical blow, because there was truth in it. Enjolras was scared to date because of his mental illness. He'd found the thought that Grantaire understood him comforting.

"Grantaire, stop it. That's not what I'm..." Enjolras could feel his eyes watering. He got up and turned to face the window, taking a few anxious steps and some slow, deliberate breaths. "I don't think we should talk about this right now."

"You're probably right. Let's do some deceptively platonic cuddling instead," Grantaire snapped.

"R, I didn't bring it up yet because I didn't want to do this. I respect the fact that you need friends, okay?"

"Oh, how fucking selfless of you."

"Why are you even upset?" Enjolras asked. "Seriously, stop and think about it. You like me. You've just found out I like you back. We should both be happy, right? Isn't there a chance this is misplaced emotion because you're having an episode?"

Grantaire's face twisted into an angry, ugly scowl and Enjolras immediately retreated back to the window.

"I damn well can't date a guy who's going to call me crazy every time we fight. Just fuck off. This would never work." He stalked over to his bag and started tearing through it, looking for clothes.

"Grantaire, wait. You're not being rational-"

"Will you fuck off about calling me crazy? I don't need to hear that right now! At least I'm not fucking crying."

Enjolras wiped at his eyes. His throat was too constricted to choke anything else out, so he just stood there and helplessly watched while Grantaire pulled jeans on over his boxers. He thought about reaching out, hesitantly patting his shoulder, but it seemed like a total shit idea.

"Please don't leave." Enjolras' voice was so feeble he almost didn't recognize it. He wasn't aware of having spoken until Grantaire whipped around and glared at him. "I know it's pathetic of me, but I really don't want to be alone right now and I, I didn't do anything. We wouldn't even be fighting if Courfeyrac hadn't sent the text. Please, R, please stay and calm down and we can have coffee together and watch bad movies and I'll even sing those stupid carols with you, just don't go yet." Grantaire had tried to goad him into singing in front of their Christmas tree yesterday. Even though he still wasn't crazy about the idea of singing carols, he'd have done it. He'd have done nearly anything not to be left alone on the brink of a meltdown.

Grantaire's expression finally softened. He was still scowling, but there was sympathy in his eyes. "I'll make it all worse if I stay. You shouldn't have to put up with me right now."

"I actually really need you right now." Enjolras wasn't sure how he kept choking out sentences. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and his stomach was in knots. And then he felt the tell-tale pressure in his chest, the squeezing in his gut. He was on the edge of a panic attack. "Please don't leave me alone right now."

"I'm sorry, Enjolras, but I can't stay. I'll make it worse. I, if I start to feel normal I'll come back. Okay? I promise."

Enjolras lost his words. He helplessly spluttered while Grantaire finished putting on his coat and shoes, and then the door slammed behind him and Enjolras was alone with his thoughts.

He curled up on the couch and tried to breathe, tried not to think about the fight. He was already losing the good parts of the morning. Grantaire had made him coffee twice, had let him sleep on his arm for hours, had promised to come back. Enjolras tried to focus on those thoughts, but the look of betrayal on Grantaire's face when he realized Enjolras liked him was overshadowing everything.

_He's disgusted with the idea of dating you. He doesn't like you back. Courfeyrac was wrong. If he liked you back he would have looked happy._

"Shut up," Enjolras groaned. He tugged at his hair and closed his eyes, but then he could  _see_ the disgusted look on Grantaire's face when he'd realized Enjolras was crying. "God, fucking stop it. This isn't real. This is my broken fucking mind making everything a thousand times worse than it actually is."

Usually, saying that helped. When he fought with his friends, reminding himself that his mind always exaggerated everything so that it was taken the worst possible way calmed him down. But his friends were rational and could be counted on to respond to Enjolras' moments of panic with grounding stability. Grantaire was just as bad as he was, worse even. They might not come back from this fight.

"Ah-h-h-h..." Enjolras' breaths came in short gasps. He reached for his phone and called Courfeyrac. Before he picked up, Enjolras ended the call. Courfeyrac was having fun with his family. Enjolras wouldn't intrude on that.

Besides, Grantaire might come back. He'd said he might, and that would be better. Grantaire always helped him when he was having a bad day. If Enjolras hadn't disgusted him entirely he might come back and he'd help Enjolras find his breath...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, I warned you!


	6. Chapter 6

On the plus side, the panic attack itself didn't last very long.

It did leave Enjolras feeling incredibly worn out though. He was still feeling shaky long after the chest pain subsided, and his thoughts weren't what one would term sunny. He was still cycling through his and Grantaire's fight more than he should be, and it was making him twitchy. He knew he was in a bad head space, and it made him miss his friends.

Grantaire had been good comapny (until recently, anyway) since he seemed to understand the bad days, and Enjolras had come to prefer him to his other friends when he was feeling low. But since that clearly wasn't an option, he called Combeferre. He didn't want to fuck anyone's holiday plans up, and Combeferre was out of state. It wouldn't occur to him to leave his family over a panic attack, whereas Courfeyrac and Prouvaire might actually come running.

“Hey, Enjolras! I was just thinking of you. What good timing. You'll never guess what book my cousin gave me for Chri-”

“I'm fighting with Grantaire, I think.”

“Oh, this is one of _those_ phone calls. Okay, hold on a sec.” He heard the muffled sound of Combeferre making excuses to his family, what sounded like movement, meaning he was probably retreating upstairs to his childhood bedroom, and a moment later Combeferre was back on the phone. “Okay, I'm alone. You don't sound well. Are you anxious?”

Enjolras frowned. He held his hand in front of his face and tried to keep it steady, but it was clearly trembling. “Very. I had a panic attack. I'm coming down from it. My chest doesn't hurt anymore and my breathing is mostly normal.”

“Fuck. Oh, I'm sorry, Enjolras. Do you want me to come home?”

“No, no, don't do that. I called you because I just want to talk without ruining anyone's Christmas.”

“I can come and get you, you know. Rhode Island is a small state. In matters of pure distance, I'm not that much further from you right now than Jehan. And my family's good about these things. They won't mind you crashing our Christmas dinner. I actually think you'd really get along with my dad. Well, apart from how he keeps asking me if I'm very sure I'm still gay.”

“Ugh, my mom does that too.”

“Did you know it'd make my life easier if I weren't? I wouldn't have to worry about homophobia that way. Sorry, I'm not selling the family Christmas very well. We just finished up a grilling session on everyone's love lives, or lack thereof, and I'm still a little frustrated. But that's finished now. If I hop in the car right now I could have us both back in time for desserts and Love Actually.”

Enjolras made a face. He was pretty sure he didn't say anything, but Combeferre clearly understood his reaction anyway. “I know, but it's my cousin's favorite Christmas movie. I'm campaigning for A Muppet Christmas Carol.”

“I'd still rather just talk. I don't think pushing myself on a bunch of strangers is going to work out well for my nerves, no offense.”

“None taken. So...what happened with you and Grantaire?”

“I...I'm not really sure.” Enjolras got up from the couch and started pacing. He stuck his finger in his mouth and chewed on the nail while Combeferre patiently waited for him to get his thoughts in order. “It started out okay. I noticed he was a bit jittery, but we're normally pretty good around the other when one of us is having a bad day. We were going to cuddle and watch Christmas specials.”

“Oh. Do you guys cuddle a lot?”

Enjolras considered. “I wouldn't say a lot, but we've done it a few times. I, I know he's not affectionate with me in public. It's, like...therapeutic cuddling. We only do it to calm the other one down.” It sounded weird, saying it out loud, which was frustrating because when they did do the blanket cuddles it always felt like the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that was one-sided though. Maybe Grantaire thought it was weird.

“Enj, you sound really freaked out. Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you. I just wanted to talk a bit.” He chewed a piece of his fingernail off and spit it out.

“That's fine. I've got plenty of time for a chat before the next festive family obligation. Do you want me to try to help you unravel this Grantaire thing? Oh, Grim says hi. She's trying to head butt the phone out of my hands.”

“Scritch her ears for me. I, I don't think there is a way to work out the Grantaire thing. I don't know what fucking happened. Everything was going pretty okay, and then he went ballistic on me out of nowhere. And, well, I've seen him having a bad day before. I met him on one. He's never responded to me like this. He was so angry. And betrayed. He...it was weird.”

“What did you fight about?”

“Um...” Enjolras abruptly stopped pacing. He paused in front of the window, looking out into the half-melted slush piles along the sidewalk and the tacky Christmas light display the next house over. The regular pattern of the blinking lights was soothing. He felt calm enough to talk about the fight as long as he synched his breathing up to the lights. “Courfeyrac sent us these stupid texts egging us into confessing our feelings. We...we fought because we'd been called out on it. He was really upset when he found out I liked him.” Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut tight and took a slow, deliberate breath. “Um...he doesn't want to date me. That hurt a lot more than I expected. I mean, I've realized I've been falling for him for a little while now, but I've always been okay with being single in the past. It, it shouldn't hurt this much to have my expectations go back to that, right?”

“Did you think you guys were working towards something?” Combeferre sounded puzzled. Enjolras realized that this was the first his best friend was hearing of his crush, and he felt a twinge of guilt. Then again, it's not like Combeferre had been all that upfront with him over the Prouvaire situation. Mostly they just discussed their intellectual passions.

Hm. Maybe they'd both be doing better if they'd talked over their feelings. Courfeyrac, apparently, couldn't be relied on as their sole counselor.

“Yeah, I'd...I'd been trying for something. I was going to ask him out on my own after Christmas was over.”

“Oh, Enjolras...I'm really sorry. I didn't even notice...how long have you had feelings for him?”

Enjolras walked over to the couch and dismally took a flop onto the cushions. “I think I've had them since we met. They've just strengthened over time. And he likes me too. He just doesn't want to, I guess...I don't really know. He seemed to be getting upset for no reason. It was completely irrational.”

“So wait, you had a panic attack. Was he having some kind of episode too?”

“Oh, most definitely. He said he'd come back later if he felt more like himself. At the time, he was afraid of making things worse. But I was freaking out, 'Ferre. He couldn't have made it worse. It was terrible. 'Ferre? Are you still there?”

There was a slight pause. “Oh, yeah, still here. Just being a terrible friend. Because clearly you need lots of support right now but all I can think of is the part where you said R likes you back. So...he's not in love with Jehan?”

Oh, that. “No, you idiot. I already told you that the other day. They're just friends.”

“Oh. Um...do you think I still have a chance with him then?”

Enjolras sighed and pushed his bangs out of his face. They'd fallen in his eyes during his dramatic couch-flop. “Yeah, I'd say a pretty decent one. Although you did muck things up a bit by flirting with a handsome bartender in front of him all night and then going home with the guy.”

“There's no need to get snippy.”

“Sorry. Prouvaire really does like you though. He's been pining for you for ages. He was too shy to say anything himself. 'Ferre? You still there?”

“Yes...” Combeferre was quiet for a bit. Enjolras didn't have anything else to say on the subject, so he started chewing another wedge out of his fingernail, hoping to even out a jagged piece that was sticking up. He'd have to clip his nails later. Nail biting was one of his more annoying anxious tics, although it was preferable to the self-harm impulses that had haunted him during adolescence.

“'Ferre?” he prompted again. “Should I have kept sitting on that?”

“No, it's...I'm just not really sure what to do. I, I do like Feuilly. But Jehan...I've...I just didn't think he liked me.”

“Well he does. A lot.” And not in that obnoxious Grantaire way where he got really angry about it and flipped his shit and left. “I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier. It was mostly a Courfeyrac hunch and you know how unreliable those can be. Jehan didn't say anything himself until he saw you with Feuilly.”

“So he did leave the Corinth because of me. That was my fault.”

“I wouldn't say it's your fault, that's a bit strong. But...he did get upset watching you flirt with someone else. Fuck. Can we just talk about politics or something for a little while? I'm in over my head right now. There's no easy answer to this emotional bullshit.”

“Indeed. Is that why you've avoided dating all these years?” Combeferre asked. "The inconvenience?" 

Enjolras scowled. He hadn't avoided dating entirely out of a lack of interest. He'd avoided dating mostly because he was shit at it and he didn't understand other boys. “Boys are stupid. Like capitalism. Let's talk about how stupid capitalism is.”

“I don't know if stupid is the right word. Evil, cold, ruthless, definitely. But considering the grasp it has on the world, stupid isn't a very good adjective. It's pretty crafty.”

Enjolras breathed a relieved sigh, and indulged in a comforting, familiar topic for the next twenty minutes. He felt more relaxed for getting his mind off of boys, and the next time he held his hand in front of his face it was perfectly steady.

Then there was a knock at his door. “'Ferre, I'd better go. I think Grantaire's back.”

“Okay...are you sure that's a good thing?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Right. Well, call me if you need to.”

“Will do.” He hung up, climbed to his feet, and went to get the door.

It was indeed Grantaire standing in the hallway. He looked a mess. The knees of his jeans were torn up and damp, and his shoes were covered with mud and slush. His hair was sticking up in several spots. It looked like it had been torn at and tugged, and his lips were bitten and raw looking.

For all that, he did look calmer.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Enjolras stepped aside and let him into the living room.

Grantaire immediately kicked his shoes off and went over to his bag to get a clean pair of pants. While he was digging through in search of them, Enjolras spied a few scrapes on his palms. “Are you…?”

“I went for a walk to cool down and I kept falling on black ice. I'm okay. I just should have been paying attention, that's all. My sneakers aren't that great on ice.”

“Okay. There's a first aid kit in the bathroom, if you want to put anything on your scrapes. I'm going to make some tea, I think.” He'd never had his coffee, but caffeine was not allowed after a panic attack. If he got a headache he'd just have to deal with it. “I've got apple chamomile, if you want any.”

“Herbal tea?” Grantaire shot him a knowing look then resumed his search with his head down. “I'm sorry.”

Enjolras walked over to him and gently touched his shoulder. “It's okay. Well, it's not, really, but we'll talk about it.”

“Yeah. I'll be out in a few minutes. Um, tea sounds good.”

“Okay.” Enjolras busied himself in the kitchen. Grantaire was still in the bathroom when he was finished steeping the tea, and he realized he was still wearing the ridiculous cat pajamas, so he went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose necked red sweater. He looked in the mirror and finger combed his hair so that it looked messy and flattering, as opposed to the more bird's nest inspired look he'd started out with.

He definitely looked tired, but Enjolras looked and felt much better than he'd been that morning. He went back to the kitchen for the tea, set the mugs on the coffee table in the living room, and waited for Grantaire. “You okay in there?” he called.

“Fine! Almost done.”

After a few more minutes Grantaire walked out in his boxer shorts, which was extra odd looking since he was still wearing his hooded sweatshirt. One look at his knees explained everything. There was very little skin left. Mostly, they were a raw, red mess. “I...don't think I can wear jeans right now.”

“Yeah, that doesn't seem like a very sound idea. Wasn't there gauze in the first aid kit?”

“I just saw these little band aids. They looked like they'd hurt more than help.”

“Combeferre's probably got some gauze in his room. Hold on, I'll go get it. If we wrap your knees you should be able to wear pants. But I think you should stick with something loose fitting, like your pajama pants.”

“Kay.”

Enjolras rooted around in Combeferre's room for a few minutes. When he returned to the living room he found Grantaire hunched over with his head in his hands. “'Taire?”

He jumped. “Fuck. Sorry. I'm still...kinda still not feeling great, but it's a different kind of bad head space. I won't freak out on you this time.”

“Well that's nice to hear.” Enjolras tried to smile at him. He knelt in front of Grantaire, which made him twitch and pull away. “Grantaire, please. Just let me wrap your knees.”

“S-sorry. Just, considering everything...it's a little weird to have you kneeling in front of me while I'm only wearing my underpants.”

Enjolras blinked a few times. It hadn't even registered to him how close he was to Grantaire's crotch. He lowered his eyes, face on fire. He scooched back a bit and stuck out his hand, thrusting the gauze at Grantaire. “Will you wrap them yourself then?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire took the gauze and set to work.

“You already put ointment on the scrapes, right?”

“Yup. And it stung like a bitch.”

“Mm...says the kid covered in ink.”

“Hey, it's different when you do it on purpose and you get something out of it.”

Enjolras considering sitting on the couch next to Grantaire, decided against it, and dragged the armchair closer to the coffee table instead. He'd thought the better choice was to give Grantaire some space, but he looked positively wounded when he finished wrapping his knees. “I don't bite, you know.”

“Well, considering the way you were yelling at me earlier and that you _just_ asked me not to kneel in front of you, I figured we weren't going to be cuddling,” Enjolras snapped.

Grantaire held his hands up. “Okay, you're pissed at me. That's fair.”

“I'm not...well yeah, I guess I am a little angry. But I don't want to be. Grantaire, what the fuck even? What was all that?”

“Me fucking everything up. It's kind of what I do.” Grantaire hobbled over to his bag, wincing when he got down on his knees, and dug around for pajama pants. He struggled into them, and then hobbled back to the couch. “I went into panic mode. I wasn't expecting you to like me back. I mean, I've _been_ flirting with you and you haven't given me anything to go on. Just the cuddling, and you only want to do that when you're upset. Like, I got it. You know, it could have been anyone, but you just happened to pick me because I was convenient and it didn't embarrass you. You know, I'm more of a mess than you, so you show me things you don't show other people. I thought I understood what we were. But...I guess I didn't.”

“I feel _safe_ with you, R,” Enjolras said. “I've told you about a lot of things I haven't told anyone else, and you've always been so good with me about it. I never regretted making myself vulnerable to you until this morning.”

“Yeah, I really fucked that up. I'm sorry. It just really freaked me out. None of that was rational, and it's not how I really feel.”

“I...yeah, I figured.” Enjolras sighed and lowered his gaze. He was more angry and hurt than he'd realized, but bringing that up wasn't going to help anything. “I wish you hadn't left me alone while I was panicking. I could have used your help.”

“I couldn't have helped. That's the thing about both of us being broken. It doesn't work if we're both being broken at exactly the same moment. Did you call someone? I figured if it got really bad you'd call Courf or someone.”

“I talked to Combeferre for a little while. _After_ I had a panic attack.” He said it very pointedly, then fixed a severe look on Grantaire, who flinched and looked away.

“I'm fucking, sorry, okay? But I swear, if I'd stayed it would have been worse. I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm still not exactly stable right now, but running around and having gravity beat the shit out of me helped a little.”

“In the future, I'd like you to remember that if I ask you not to leave me alone I'm not asking lightly.”

“I didn't think you were. I-sorry. I'm really sorry I can't be what you need.” Grantaire got up, winced and grabbed at his knees, and then sat back down again. “Shit. I wish I hadn't fucked up my knees. I could really use some pacing right now. And for you to stop looking at me like I'm scum. I already feel like scum without the patented Enjolras glare.”

“I'm glaring?”

“Paint-peeling level. Do you really not do that on purpose?”

“No...” Enjolras made an effort to relax his expression to something more neutral. “Is this any better?”

“You still look kind of judgey.”

“I'm actually trying not to burst into frustrated tears. It was embarrassing enough, crying in front of you earlier. I used to have a real problem with crying when I got upset. And then people ask if you're okay, and fuss, and you only cry harder and it's the worst. I'd mostly stopped doing that by middle school, you asshole. You are bringing back all sorts of behaviors I'd hated about myself that I'd conquered. Jerk.”

He couldn't at all decipher the look on Grantaire's face, but Enjolras was pretty sure he himself was sporting a petulant scowl. Then Grantaire patted the seat next to him. “C'mon, get over here. At least when we cuddle we aren't usually looking each other in the face.”

“That's true.” Enjolras chewed his lip and thought about it for a second. He quickly gave in and bounded over to Grantaire, burying his face in the crook of Grantaire's neck and letting out a slow, shaky breath. He felt the strong arm snake around him and most of the tension he'd been carrying instantly melted away.

“I am truly sorry I hurt you,” Grantaire whispered into Enjolras' hair. “I wanted to be yelling at me and instead I yelled at you because you were there and so damn gorgeous with that hopeful look on your face and those stupid pajama pants looking cute as hell and it just kind of broke my brain. You're so out of my league, Enjolras. I wanted to fail on purpose before I could fail for real.”

“Well that's rather defeatist.”

“Hi, my name's Grantaire. We  _have_ met, haven't we?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and snuggled closer. “Yeah, I know. I'm pretty sure I can be idealistic enough for both of us though. Plus I'm pretty stubborn.”

“Yeah, we've had that conversation already. I dunno. I kind of like the friendship with cuddles thing we've had going. Anything more real than that is probably more than I can handle.”

Enjolras recognized that tone of voice. It was hesitant, calculated. Grantaire telling himself what he _should_ do instead of what he wanted to do, like when he tried to put a book back at the used book store and walked home with a backpack full of them instead.

He pulled back, Grantaire's arm sliding down to rest at his hip as he looked him in the eye. Enjolras frowned, brow contracting as he scrutinized the wide, frightened looking blue eyes in front of him. He leaned forward and pressed a careful kiss to Grantaire's painfully bitten lips. He kept it brief, just a quick press of lips to confirm what both of them already knew.

 ~~~~___

Enjolras didn't remember to call Combeferre back until much later that night. Grantaire had konked out in the living room with the TV still on, so Enjolras quietly slipped out of the room and called his roommate.

“Hey, how'd it go?”

Enjolras was sure the stupid smile he was wearing communicated his feelings well enough, but since they were talking on the phone and not face-timing he had to articulate them somehow. “Wonderfully. I've got a boyfriend now. And after calling him that all afternoon he even started accepting the label.”

“Was that...a problem?”

“At first. His self-esteem's actually worse than I'd realized. But it's okay. I just kept kissing him and telling him he was over complicating things. Being direct is working pretty well...for now, anyway. I might have to be a little more careful when his mood changes.”

Combeferre sounded grave when he answered. “Be careful, Enjolras. And I'm not just talking about Grantaire's feelings. Dating an unmedicated, depressed man with a history of suicidal tendencies is not a good choice, given your own history. I like you and Grantaire and I'm going to hope for the best, but you can see why I'm worried, right?”

“I know. He triggered a panic attack this morning, believe me, I get it. And I'm going to be careful.”

“Okay.”

“I promise to ask for help when I need it.”

“Good.”

“Did you pat your cat for me?”

“Yes, lots. I don't think she cared that I said the scritches were from you.”

“I didn't expect her to. Have you talked to Jehan yet?”

“No...” Combeferre sighed. “And he hasn't answered any of my texts yet.”

“Do you want me to try to talk to him for you?”

“Absolutely not. No offense, but this is something I should do myself. I'll sort it out at New Year's.”

“Ah. Um...is it too gossipy if I ask who you picked?”

Combeferre laughed. “Considering I just lectured you about your boyfriend, I'd say you're within rights. I think I made a bit much out of the night I spent with Feuilly, to be honest. I do like him, and I think he likes me and it could go somewhere, but it's not anywhere yet. Jehan, on the other hand...I've been in love with him already for quite some time. It's him. My heart is his, if he wants it.”

“Good. Well, you might not approve of my boyfriend but I definitely approve of yours.”

“He's not my boyfriend yet. Right now he's avoiding me, actually.”

“Yeah, but that's just temporary. I'm sure it'll all work out on New Year's. I'd better get going. I left Grantaire in the living room and if he sleeps on the couch his back and neck are going to be in agony tomorrow. Is it okay if he uses your bed?”

“Yeah, that's fine. Good night, Enj. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Enjolras said. He hung up and went out to wake his boyfriend with a sharp poke to the shoulder.

“Ow.” Grantaire sat up and rubbed the spot. “You have the boniest god damn fingers.”

“Yeah, so I've heard. Come on, 'Ferre said you can sleep in his bed so you don't kill your back. His room's over this way.”

“Can't I just share your bed?” Grantaire waggled his eyebrows. “I've already let you use mine.” Something about the look on Enjolras' face made him laugh. “I was just kidding, god. How much of a prude are you, anyway?”

“Half my friends mistook me for an aromantic asexual, so quite the prude, actually.”

“Wait, really?” Grantaire hobbled after Enjolras. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, though he looked much more awake after that last comment.

“Yes. I'm not aromantic or asexual, but I don't seem to be nearly as amorous as other men my age. I do think you're very attractive though, and I'd very much like to sleep with you when your knees aren't a bloody mess, so try not to hurt yourself if you can avoid it.”

“Are you...is this real? I'm still asleep, aren't I?”

Enjolras grinned a wicked grin and kissed him chastely on the lips. “Good night, love. Merry Christmas.” He left a befuddled looking boyfriend standing in the hall and closed the door to his own room soundly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Next on the agenda, the Feuilly/Combeferre/Jehan triangle. Enjolras and Grantaire have frustrated my dastardly attempts to keep drama going by being too in love with each other, but those three...mwa ha ha ha...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I'd been hoping to get this done in time for New Year's and clearly I didn't...but at least it's nice and long!

"I've talked to Feuilly three times already and I still haven't heard from Jehan."

"Isn't Jehan still with his family?"

"So?"

Enjolras craned his neck back, trying to get a good look at Combeferre, who was standing just out of his line of sight behind the couch. Enjolras was sprawled over Grantaire and not at all inclined to move, though he would have liked to see Combeferre if the discussion was going to be a prolonged one.

"Can Jehan not answer texts when he's with his family?" Combeferre asked moodily.

Enjolras shrugged. "He usually doesn't. It's either a service thing, or a too-overwhelmed-to-social thing. R, have you been talking to Prouvaire since he left?" Enjolras poked Grantaire's thigh.

"Ow! Enj, I've asked you not to stab me with your skeleton fingers. And no, Jehan hasn't been answering my messages either."

"See? He's not necessarily avoiding you."

Combeferre started to smile, but then Grantaire cut in.

"Oh, he's definitely avoiding 'Ferre. He told me he was going to when we left the Corinth. Although come to think of it, I don't think I was supposed to say anything. Um, I'm going to shut up now." He tried to squirm away, but Enjolras was lying on top of him and he dug his heels into the carpet to sabotage his boyfriend's feeble escape attempt.

"No, darling, please. Elaborate for us..."

"I'd rather not."

"I'll stab you with my skeleton fingers again."

"Enj, it's okay," Combeferre said. "Grantaire doesn't need to betray his friendship over this. I...made a mess. I'll have to fix it."

Enjolras got up and turned around so he could give his roommate his full attention. Combeferre had been home for two days already and all he'd been doing was sulking in his room. Enjolras had barely seen him and he was getting annoyed. He decided he hated pining in all its horrid manifestations, both when it concerned him and others. "Did you want to hang out with us for a little while?"

"Oh, um...I'd thought you'd want some privacy?"

Enjolras and Grantaire both turned baffled looks on Combeferre. "If we wanted privacy we'd be in my room," Enjolras said. "Or at Grantaire's house."

"Dude, we're not going to have sex on your couch. C'mon, quit hiding in your room. That shit's not healthy. And we're both experts on unhealthy behavior."

Combeferre's face flushed a fun shade of magenta at Grantaire's words, but he did sit down across from them in the armchair. "It's not that I thought you were going to have sex in the living room. But...aren't you guys being...what does Courfeyrac call it? Schmoopy? You just started dating like two days ago."

Enjolras shrugged. "If we make you uncomfortable you can just leave."

"That sounds practical." Combeferre was grinning at something. Enjolras couldn't figure out what was amusing him so he let it go.

He resumed his seat between Grantaire's legs with his back pressed to Grantaire's chest, and Grantaire's arms quickly snaked around him again. One of his favorite things about the change in their relationship status was the increase in cuddling. Grantaire had referred to the previous cuddles as deceptively platonic, and Enjolras hadn't been sure what he was getting at until Grantaire had accepted the boyfriend label. Now that the platonic illusion had been dropped, Grantaire's hands occasionally wandered a little, and he'd drop spontaneous kisses on Enjolras' neck or cheek while they were watching TV or reading their books. Romantic cuddles were definitely better than the friendly ones.

They started marathoning a TV show Enjolras and Combeferre had never heard of, but Grantaire insisted was vital to their status as non-pod people, and spent a comfortably lazy couple of hours together. It was finally interrupted when Combeferre, after quietly trading texts with someone for a few minutes, left the room to take a call. Enjolras started paying more attention to his roommate than the TV when he noticed how long the call was taking.

Then Combeferre walked through the room wearing a nice pair of slacks with a sweater vest he naively believed to be flattering. He'd switched to his "trendy" glasses and he was wearing cologne. He was edging over to the shoe rack by the door, clearly trying to make a getaway without them noticing.

"Heading out?" Grantaire asked loudly. He hadn't even looked up. Enjolras stopped staring at Combeferre and cast an appreciative look at his boyfriend.

"I, um...y-yeah. For a little bit, anyway."

"'Ferre, you're an adult. You don't have to explain your choices to us," Enjolras said, despite the fact that he was incredibly eager for an explanation. Still. Prying would be rude.

Grantaire snorted. "But if you'd like to save us the trouble of speculating on what's going on, that'd be peachy. You meeting up with Feuilly?"

"I...uh..."

"Dude, you've been pining for Prouvaire all frickin' day. All frickin' week, from what Enjolras has said. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Combeferre frowned, eyes fixed stubbornly on his shoes, as though they held some kind of magic answer for his problem. "At least Feuilly's talking to me." He left without saying anything else.

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched tight in an annoyed grimace. "Okay, I know romantic endeavors aren't my strong suit, but am I right about thinking that this is going to end disastrously?"

"I don't really have much more firsthand experience to go off of than you, but based on the hours of television and movies I've wasted my life away with yeah, this isn't looking promising. Of course, if 'Ferre's in a rom-com then tonight will be full of awkward shenanigans that slowly push him towards his inevitable epiphany about his heart's desire."

"He's already had his epiphany. He's in love with Jehan. He's just going on a date with Feuilly because he's lonely and he's sick of stewing over this." Enjolras scowled. "I wish Prouvaire would just answer his damn phone."

"Eh, that'd be too easy. You can't count on poets to be sensible."

* * *

 "Boys," Courfeyrac said in a loud, dramatic voice that carried halfway across the Musain, "are a pain in the ass. And not in the delightful way that reminds you of a night of debauchery." He dropped into an open seat next to Grantaire, leaned over and kissed his cheek, and then let out an exasperated sigh.

Enjolras briefly peeked at him above the rim of his book. "Have you been talking to Combeferre or Jehan?"

"Combeferre. As far as I can tell Jehan's bundled himself into a blanket fort and we've little hope of seeing him again before the semester resumes, because apparently introverts like him only need friends for study sessions. I swear, they're being intentionally obtuse. Look, this is how it's supposed to work. Combeferre and Prouvaire date because it's meant to fucking be. I mean, their names even rhyme. How much more of a sign do you need? And then Feuilly and me continue to hook up and develop a mutually beneficial friendly arrangement. It's nice and drama-free. Why is everyone being so stupid?"

"Probably because this Feuilly guy seems to be sincerely attracted to Combeferre," Grantaire mused. "Totally throws a wrench in your plans, huh? I guess it's too bad his name doesn't rhyme."

Courfeyrac impatiently tapped his fingers against the table. "Right? Urgh...I'm tempted to skip out on the New Year's party, to be honest. I feel bad about Jehan. I was egging him on about his crush. He might not have gotten as upset if I hadn't been all...'oh, you should totes ask 'Ferre out.' I feel like I should be bringing him ice cream or something."

Enjolras scowled and set his book aside, since Courfeyrac seemed pretty intent on spending their waiting time bitching about boys. They were on their way to a New Year's Eve party at Feuilly's, and had decided to meet up for some caffeine and relative quiet before the social venture among a large group of strangers. Enjolras and Grantaire had gotten to the cafe first and had enjoyed their time sitting in absolute silence but not solitude.

"I swung by Jehan's earlier. He's actually not doing too bad," Grantaire said. "I mean, yeah, he's retreated to a blanket fort and he's wearing a fleece onesie with sock-monkeys printed on it, but he's also got a good stack of books next to his blanket fort and I brought him some fancy loose leaf tea. He's doing his self-care, and he said he'd come to the party later if he was feeling up to it."

"Jehan's really good at reading his own moods. I'm sure he'll be fine," Enjolras said. "'Ferre, on the other hand, is failing spectacularly at introspection. He's the one you should be meddling with." He nudged Courfeyrac's leg with the tip of his sneaker.

"Oh, it's not an introspection-fail. I think that boy's aware of exactly how stupid he's being," Grantaire said. "And I'm pretty sure Feuilly's the one who's going to suffer for it."

"Hm. Guess I'll just have to swoop in and pick up the shattered pieces of the gorgeous bartender's heart...okay...okay, I can work with this." Courfeyrac visibly perked up. Enjolras had little doubt he was already scripting a new ending to the tangled love story he was trying to will into being for their clique.

"Courf, isn't your interest in Feuilly even more superficial than Combeferre's?" Grantaire scowled at him. 

"Most definitely," Enjolras said with a nod. "Combeferre can legitimately see himself dating Feuilly if it doesn't work out with Prouvaire. Courfeyrac just wants a friends-with-benefits arrangement."

"You say that like it's the most evil thing in the world," Courfeyrac pouted. "Besides, who's to say I won't develop real feelings while hooking up? Well, okay, that's unlikely at best. I'm not really looking for a commitment. But it's not impossible. And I'm always up front with people about that stuff."

"I know," Enjolras said, making an effort to soften his expression. Grantaire had made him aware of how severe he usually looked, and now that he was looking out for it, he realized that his friends thought of him as intimidating at best and judgmental at worst. "And you're not actually a pest about it either. You were very respectful when I shot you down freshman year. I only had to do it the one time."

Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at him. "Your loss."

Grantaire's eyes widened as he looked between his boyfriend and his friend. "You tried to sleep with Enjolras? Like, casually?"

Courfeyrac laughed. "I know you've only ever imagined enraptured levels of commitment in regards to our golden boy, but yeah...I just threw a bunch of sleazy pickup lines at him until he threatened to castrate me. Then we had a good laugh, somehow became friends, and I haven't pestered him about it since." He shrugged. "My friends are really pretty, and I appreciate beauty."

"Oh, yeah, you're just a connoisseur," Grantaire teased. "It's totally different from being a skeezy pickup artist."

"Courf is not a skeezy pickup artist," Enjolras said. He poked Grantaire in the ribs to emphasize his point. "He's honest with people, and that's an important distinction."

Courfeyrac's mouth was still open but the refutation he was going to throw Grantaire's way died in his throat. He smiled at Enjolras, quietly mumbled a thank you, and then determinedly switched the subject. 

Grantaire turned sulky at the censure. Enjolras tried to snag his hand under the table but he flinched away from him. He felt bad for hurting Grantaire's feelings but felt it was equally important to stand up for Courfeyrac. If need be he'd apologize later, in private.

Ostensibly they were hanging around the Musain waiting for the rest of their friends to gather before heading off to the New Year's Eve party at Feuilly's apartment, but Prouvaire was a tenuous maybe about going and Combeferre finally remembered to text them to say that he was already there. Grantaire chugged the rest of his coffee, and then the three of them piled into Enjolras' car. He punched the address Combeferre had texted him into the GPS and started off for an unfamiliar part of town.

Courfeyrac was sitting in the passenger seat. He made a good navigator and copilot. Enjolras wanted to believe that that was the reason he was there, and that Grantaire wasn't sulking in the back because he was still embarrassed and stinging from Enjolras shutting down his attempt to tease Courfeyrac. He'd been having a good day. There was no reason for him to blow one bad social interaction out of proportion like this (although it was definitely something someone suffering chronic anxiety would do).

Feuilly's building looked about as bad as Grantaire's, but in a very different way. Whereas Grantaire's had once been grand and charming but had gotten decrepit over time due to neglect, Feuilly's building was modern and ugly. It was one of those brick box complexes, with far too many identical boxlike apartments crammed into four stories of hideous, tidy conformity. They parked in a designated visitor space and approached the brick box with a large metal D by the automatic glass doors. The doors stopped before they'd opened more than a three inch crack, and Grantaire had to pry them the rest of the way open so that they could get in. "Nice place," he grunted.

"Feuilly's a bartender and he works a second job at a convenience store. I'm guessing he doesn't have a lot of money," Courfeyrac said. "Plus I guess Lesgle, one of his roommates, is like chronically unemployed."

The hallway was lit by flickering fluorescent lights and the puke colored carpet gave off an unpleasant odor that was difficult to pin down. Enjolras was careful to breathe through his mouth. He was pretty sure he could happily go the rest of his life without identifying that one with certainty. 

Thankfully, the actual apartment was much better cared for than the rest of the building. Some strategically placed plug-ins helped mask the odor that had seeped into the carpeting and plaster, and the simple, mismatched furniture was tastefully arranged and accented with artwork. 

Feuilly greeted them as soon as they walked in and ushered them over to the kitchen area of the open-plan main room where a humble spread of drinks and snacks was laid out. Enjolras scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. He spied the klutzy bartender sitting by the TV. He appeared to be arguing with a curly haired young woman (one of few in the room - the gathering looked to be made up of mostly queers who were mostly male) over which marathon they were going to ring in the new year with. Combeferre was on the other side of the living area, standing near a cheap bookcase that was similar to Grantaire's in its state of being over-burdened with used paperbacks. He was talking to a friendly looking kid with sandy hair. The stranger was wearing a Dr. Who t-shirt and handing out vitamin C drops the way a host might normally offer someone a drink.

He didn't recognize anyone else at the party, but Enjolras recognized the looks being sent his way. He felt like rolling his eyes, and was a bit mad at himself for expecting better. It's not like Courfeyrac hadn't warned him. Enjolras had known he was going to a party populated by mostly gay men. He'd just fixed on the "queer radical activists" part of the description and forgotten about the "drunk, horny gay boys" part.

He was already being leered at like he was a piece of meat and he hadn't even finished pouring his soda yet. Enjolras resolved to stay as close to Grantaire's side as possible.

Then he finished pouring his soda, turned around, and realized Grantaire was nowhere to be seen. "Courf? Where the hell did Grantaire go?"

Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders. "He was just here a second ago. It's not a big place. I'm sure we'll find him again. In the mean time, I'm gonna ask 'Ferre about his new friend in the Dr. Who shirt..."

"That's Joly," Feuilly said. "One of my other roommates."

"Oh." Courfeyrac arched a brow. "Is he...?"

"Happily dating Musichetta."

"Oh." Courfeyrac's face fell.

"And Bossuet. So, y'know, you're not going to get anywhere with any of my roomies. They're poly, but I'm pretty sure they're perfectly satisfied as a trio. Chetta brought Bahorel with her tonight though. I think he's single."

Courfeyrac perked up at this, and then went to inquire after this Bahorel person.

"Hey, Enjolras...can I talk to you for a second?" 

"Sure."

Feuilly steered Enjolras down a hallway towards the bedrooms, though stopped short of actually going into one of them. He was trying to present his usual friendly facade, but there was something nervous and serious in the movement of his eyes. "You and Combeferre have been friends for a long time, right?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Not really. I mean, we met at freshman orientation and we've been friends ever since..."

"Okay, but you're close, right? You know him really well?"

"Yeah...we've been living together for a year and a half. Um. You're not going to ask me for dating advice, are you?"

Feuilly's face colored. "Maybe? Sorry. I know it's tacky, it's just...I'm getting desperate here. I really like him. I know we're barely dating and it's been going on for less than a week so it's stupid to be invested already but...I dunno. I just really like him and I want this to work. I feel like he's holding back on me. Is that just him, or am I doing something wrong?"

Enjolras frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry, Feuilly, but I don't want to get involved. You should really talk to Combeferre about this, not me."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being shitty."

"Hey, it's okay. I wish I could help I just...I barely know what I'm doing with my own boyfriend, you know?"

Feuilly laughed. "I can completely relate. You're dating the scruffy guy who likes the weird hats, right?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "It's just one stocking cap, and it was a gift from Jehan."

"Ah, the elusive Jean Prouvaire. I've heard of this mythical friend. I'm hoping to meet him someday. With the way Combeferre talks about him, he sounds like a pretty great guy."

Yeah...the sooner Enjolras could end that conversation the better. "I should actually see if I can find Grantaire. He's got an anxiety disorder. Sometimes he has a hard time in large groups. Um, I'll catch you later." Enjolras walked out into the main room and anxiously peered around for his boyfriend.

He saw Courfeyrac sitting in the lap of a muscular guy that was possibly Bahorel, and Feuilly edged past him to join Combeferre and Joly in whatever they were talking about. Bald-bartender and curly haired girl had settled on a Three Stooges marathon and were pointedly ignoring the groping going on on the couch behind them.

Enjolras was still scanning the room for his missing boyfriend when he was startled by someone coming up behind him and standing too damn close. He compulsively took a few steps back and eyed the guy warily. 

"Hey, no reason to look so scared, buttercup. I only bite on request."

"Ah huh." Enjolras took another step back. Even without the tired pick up line, the fact that the guy was swimming in body spray would have inclined Enjolras towards keeping a respectful distance.

"Fuck, but you're pretty. Natural blond, huh? I could eat you up, by request of course."

"I..." still had no idea how to deal with this kind of behavior, even though it had been happening to him since puberty. He would have liked to shut the guy down efficiently and possibly brutally, but his friends had asked him to avoid making scenes. They didn't know Feuilly that well yet, after all. It would be rude to ruin his party by telling off his guests.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Enjolras held up his soda in demonstration. "I'm fine. I'm going to go talk to my friends. H-have a good party." He tried to creep away but the stranger followed him.

"Oh come on, loosen up. You're at a party, for fuck's sake. Why not try making a new friend? I can be _very_ friendly." This was accompanied with an eyebrow waggle and an inappropriate leer. "I'm Boissy. Can I get a name, or should I assign you a sexy nickname?"

"Look, I get what you're angling for. I've already got a boyfriend that I'm very happy with, and if for some reason I lose the ability to pour my own soda I'm sure he will chivalrously come to my aid."

Boissy held up his hands in an exaggeratedly disarming fashion. "Hey, calm down. I can take a hint. So where's this supposed boyfriend of yours anyway? Shouldn't he be telling me to back off?"

"Maybe he expects any would-be suitors to respect my wishes. I'm not property that needs to be guarded, you know." Although since some men responded to that sort of thing, Enjolras had to admit that Grantaire's presence would have been appreciated. He took another nervous look around the room and finally spied Grantaire sitting in the corner with his knees tucked to his chest and his head down. "There he is." Grantaire chanced to look up as Enjolras was pointing him out. He wiped at his face with his sleeve and then curled in on himself again.

Boissy looked across the room, raised his eyebrows, and then turned back to Enjolras. "You're kidding, right?"

Enjolras scowled. "What? Why would I be kidding?"

"Look, I get it. You're not interested. You don't have to insult my intelligence by lying to me. At the very least, you could try pretending your boyfriend is someone other than the ugliest guy in the room."

"Grantaire isn't-"

"Oh  _come on_! You're a bonafide smoking hottie. There's no way in hell a perfect ten is hitting a frickin' two. The kid's a troll. I mean, gawd. That's fucking impossible."

Enjolras was tempted to toss his soda in the asshole's face. "I'm not lying. Grantaire really is my boyfriend and he is not a two!"

A few people had turned to look at them, including an apologetic looking Feuilly, who was making his way through the crowd to get to them. "Guys, is everything-"

"And where the fuck do you get off calling me a liar? I've made my disinterest to you very clear. I don't know what kind of strategy you think you're employing right now, but I can guarantee you that were I single I would still be delivering an enthusiastic no."

"So wait, you're really dating the troll?"

"He's not a troll!"

"Honey, he's unnaturally hideous. Seriously, who hurt you that badly that you think you deserve that?"

"Oh my god, will you get the fuck away from me?"

"G-guys!" Feuilly placed a hand on Boissy's arm. "Hey, let's go walk over here and talk about queer representation in media."

"Ugh, fine. Jesus, Feuilly, I'm not going to start shit at your party. I'll leave the pretty little damaged boy alone."

"Yeah, go do that." Feuilly stood beside Enjolras until the other kid was a safe distance away, shooting nervous looks between them. "Enjolras, I am so, so sorry about that."

"It's, um...whatever. It's not your fault. I'm going to go over to...oh for fuck's sake! Where did Grantaire go now? I'd  _just_ found him." The corner Grantaire had been hiding in was vacant. Enjolras turned his back on Feuilly's continued apologetic stammers and started walking around the apartment, ignoring anyone who tried to strike up a conversation in his pursuit of his boyfriend. 

After a fruitless search of the main room he stepped into the hallway again and took out his phone. He called Grantaire and jumped when a ringtone started blasting from the other side of the door he was leaning against. "R?"

The door opened a crack. "I need a minute." The door closed again, and Enjolras thumped his head against it.

"Grantaire, please? I wouldn't mind hiding either."

After a short pause the door opened and Enjolras darted into what turned out to be a surprisingly spacious bathroom, given the overall lack of quality of the complex. Grantaire locked the door and resumed his seat on the edge of the tub. He took a swig from his hard cider and then set the bottle down on the tiled floor. His hands were shaking.

Enjolras lowered the toilet lid and then sat down across from him. "So...that really sucked."

"Can we not?" Grantaire snapped. His voice was louder than either of them appeared to be expecting in the relatively small, tiled space. They both started, and Enjolras recoiled as though he'd been struck. "I'm sorry. I just really do need that minute."

"Okay. I, um...I don't want to go back out there without you though."

"Jesus, Enj...I'm not sure if I want to go back out there at all. I should have, should have fucking realized...fuck." He lowered his head and hugged his sides.

"Look, it's not just disgusting pervs out there. Our friends are at this party too, and Feuilly apologized for the asshole. I think he's going to talk to him for me."

"Just so you're aware, that wasn't the last time someone's going to be fucking baffled by you dating me. I really should have expected this when I started dating a hot guy. People kind of let you alone about being ugly if you keep your head down."

"What? R, he was just being stupid. You're not-"

Grantaire shot to his feet and ducked to the other side of the room, which granted only put about seven feet of space between them because spacious for a bathroom was still pretty small. "Not right now, Enjolras. I can't do a pep talk. You're not going to make me feel better about this. There's no magic speech that's going to counteract twenty two years of people calling me an ugly sack of shit. Besides, it's not a big deal. I know what I look like. I'm okay with it."

"But...I'm attracted to you. Will you at least hear that?" Enjolras thought about standing up but decided against risking it. He kept his eyes focused on Grantaire instead, imploring him to believe him and take some comfort. "I'm sorry the night's been going poorly so far. I'm sorry I embarrassed you earlier at the Musain, I just...it was...well, Courfeyrac is sensitive about the sleeping around sometimes, and it's not like he's actually sleazy or at all bad about it, but if I'd known you were going to avoid me for the rest of the night like this then I'd have let it go."

"I'm such a fucking douche..." Grantaire covered his face with his hands and then started rubbing his eyes. "Here I am hiding and tantruming for no god damn reason, and you're the one who was actually being sexually harassed. I'm sorry. I'm being a selfish, shitty boyfriend, aren't I? Enj, I'm not mad about the thing at the Musain."

"But you were embarrassed."

"Yeah, because I said something stupid about Courf and now he probably hates me for it. It had nothing to do with you."

"Oh." That made sense. "Then why were you hiding from me?"

"Large rooms full of strangers make me nervous. I was hiding from everyone. Then I heard that guy yelling about what a troll I was and people started staring at me so I ran away."

Enjolras took a deep breath. "I thought we were fighting."

"Is that why you didn't sit next to me on the tub?"

"Hey, you're the one who went to stand in the corner."

Grantaire slowly nodded. "I get it now. We're both idiots."

Enjolras gave a laugh that sounded feeble to his own ears and stood up. Grantaire was there to embrace him in a heartbeat. The tight ball of stress he'd been carrying in his chest loosened instantly at the strong scent of the  _right_ cheap body spray. He buried his face in the crook of Grantaire's neck and breathed deeply. "I fucking hate parties. Why did we think this was going to be fun?"

"I dunno. I think you, me, Courf and Prouvaire should have just stayed in and let Combeferre go chill with his new boy alone," Grantaire said. "I did offer to buy the Chinese food."

"Well, we committed to our wrong choice. Let's get back out there before someone actually needs the bathroom."

* * *

 Boissy was conspicuously absent from the party when Enjolras and Grantaire returned, and not only that, but the guys who had been checking Enjolras out were now doing their best to avoid making eye contact. He and Grantaire were given a polite bubble of space when they went to join Combeferre and their other friends by the TV.

Courfeyrac was still sitting on the muscle head. After cheerfully waving at his friends he offered an introduction that came with an explanation for the dynamic change. "Guys, this is Bahorel. He moonlights as a bouncer for fun and he threatened to eject anyone else who tries to hassle you guys. I've decided to keep him."

"For the night, anyway," Bahorel said. "Sorry about Boissy. It's my fault he was even here. Feuilly and Joly are way better judges of character than me and Bossuet. We really can't be counted on. I like this one though." He bounced his knee a little to indicate Courfeyrac. "You're pretty _and_ you don't seem like an asshole."

"Wait until you get him on a sugar high," Combeferre teased.

"Hey! I am exceptionally charming, thank you very much. And that goes for my various states of intoxication, sugar rush included." Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at Combeferre, and then turned around and appeared to stick his tongue down Bahorel's throat.

"Guys, not on the couch." Feuilly threw an exasperated look at them. "God, why did we volunteer to host this again?"

"No idea. I offered my place, which has a decent enough TV that we could actually _see_ the Stooges marathon," Bahorel said.

Unlike Courfeyrac and Bahorel, who were clearly buzzed and not at all concerned about putting on a public display, however much Feuilly whined, Grantaire and Enjolras merely sat next to each other with their fingers occasionally brushing against each other. They ate some junk food, played children's board games along with everyone else when they made a mysterious appearance, and somehow Grantaire wound up wearing a Pretty Pretty Princess crown for the rest of the night.

They were halfway through a surprisingly cutthroat game of Chutes and Ladders when Grantaire got a text. "Hey, Prouvaire's on his way. I guess he's feeling better."

"Ooo! Do you think he'll still be in the sock monkey pajamas?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Was he sick?" Feuilly looked to Combeferre for an answer. Before he could string a sentence together Joly made a panicked sound that most closely resembled a cat being stepped on, and everyone rushed to calm him down and explain that Prouvaire wasn't sick...in body, any way.

"Wait, how many of you guys have mental illnesses?" Feuilly asked. "No shame or anything, I'm just curious."

"I'm all kinds of fucked up," Grantaire said with a self-deprecating smile. He nudged Enjolras, who remained quiet. Grantaire quirked an eyebrow at him, and Enjolras silently shook his head.

"I've got insomnia," Feuilly said conversationally. "I'm not taking anything for it though. I'm not sure if it's really, like, therapy-type mental illness or just a side-effect of overworking myself. Either way, it's not like I have the health insurance to do anything about it. I read a really interesting article about the stigmas on mental illness the other day. It's total shit that people are too ashamed to talk about it. I mean, it probably keeps so many people from getting the help that they need."

"Mm. It's nice that Jehan's not ashamed of it," Grantaire said. His voice sounded a little off, a little too loud. "It's so much easier to help people who open up about needing the help."

Enjolras excused himself and retreated to the kitchen to replenish his soda, even though the cup was still three quarters full. It only took him a few seconds to pour the drink, so he leaned against the counter and stared moodily at the tuft of messy black hair he could see around the arm of the couch.

Grantaire _knew_ he didn't like to talk about his mental illness. Enjolras used so many aspects of his life as part of the struggle for social change. He was very open about his sexual orientation and the discrimination he'd faced for it, and he used his life as a student and the debt he was accruing in college for firsthand discussion often enough. It seemed perfectly reasonable to keep one painful thing to himself. He could talk about all the other things easily enough because righteous indignation at perceived injustice would carry him through. But he just didn't know how to open up to people about the anxiety and the depression and the eating disorder. Hell, he couldn't even explain the eating disorder to himself, let alone other people.

He'd thought Grantaire got that.

The kitchen was closer to the front door than the living room, so Enjolras heard the rhythmic knocking that was Prouvaire's signature entrance. He let his friend in and did a quick double take, as Prouvaire was most definitely  _not_ clad in unflattering and childish pajamas.

Normally the guy was absolutely terrible at dressing himself, but somehow he'd managed to throw together a really striking outfit. He looked good. He was wearing black skinny jeans that actually fit him, unlike his usual decades old thrift store finds. A low collared loose fitting sweater called attention to his graceful neck, and he'd let his copper colored hair hang in loose waves down to his shoulders, instead of pulled back in a messy tail to be out of the way.

Enjolras' first impulse was to compliment him on his outfit, but the thought died quickly. He couldn't help but question Prouvaire's motive in showing up that carefully and obviously groomed. As if determined to prove Enjolras' suspicions as quickly as possible, Prouvaire barely said anything to him, eyes scanning the room and landing on Combeferre in an instant. He excused himself and walked boldly over to the Chutes and Ladders game.

Poor Feuilly had no clue he was in the presence of a rival. He looked genuinely excited to be meeting one of his new boyfriend's closest friends. Enjolras shook his head and took a sip of his soda. He'd confer with Courfeyrac and Grantaire later. It seemed like the decent thing, to let Feuilly know, but at the same time Enjolras was a terrible judge when it came to the appropriateness of different kinds of meddling. He wanted a second opinion first.

Enjolras returned to Grantaire's side. They traded a look, Enjolras searching Grantaire's face for signs of annoyance, figuring he'd be resentful about Enjolras effectively lying about his mental health to their new friends, but Grantaire only smiled at him and took his hand again.

Maybe he was starting the bad part of a cycle or something. He couldn't go more than a conversation or two without thinking Grantaire was mad at him, but that had yet to actually be the case all night. Stupid paranoia.

"Where'd Courfeyrac go?" Enjolras asked, noticing that they were down one...two people. "Oh. Bahorel's gone too."

"Yeah, they got up while you were getting your soda," Grantaire said. "I'd thought they were going to hang with us for the count down too, but I can't say I mind. They were getting pretty handsy with each other. I kept getting distracted during Pretty Pretty Princess."

"Did they leave the party?"

"I think they're in Bossuet's room," Feuilly said. "I'd prefer it if they'd left the party, but at least they're not using my bed." He smirked at Combeferre. "I'd like that one to stay open."

Combeferre bit his lip, obviously pleased, and then cast a guilty look at Prouvaire, who was pointedly not looking at him at all while he chatted with Joly about hand washing techniques.

Grantaire mouthed something that looked an awful lot like, 'this is weird.' Enjolras nodded his vigorous agreement.

Things remained tense through another few games of Chutes and Ladders. Then Lesgle called everyone's attention to the countdown and they all stopped what they were doing to chant along.

Enjolras had completely forgotten that kissing your significant other was a New Year's ritual. He'd never had a boyfriend on New Year's before, so it had never come up. He was a little surprised when Grantaire pulled him over as the countdown finished, but inordinately pleased with the tender kiss he received as the countdown finished and the room erupted with noise and celebration.

"Happy New Year, Enj. This is definitely the best thing that happened to me in 2015," Grantaire whispered, casting a quick look down at their entwined fingers. "My resolution is to not fuck this up, if I can help it."

"Same here. Thanks for being so patient with me tonight."

Grantaire's brow scrunched up in confusion, and then he snorted. "You'll have to give me your version of what you think happened later on. For now, I think I'd like to kiss you again."

"Sounds good."

"Hey you two, get a room!" Musichetta yelled. Someone threw a balled up napkin at Enjolras' head. He blindly flipped off the direction it had come from, tangled his hand in Grantaire's hair, and deepened the kiss. 

"Feuilly's room is still open!"

"The hell it is!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who've read my other Les Mis stuff might have noticed that I'm going for something a little different in this fic. Normally I flit around between different characters' POVs, I'm keeping myself in Enjolras' head this time. I wanted to see how it would affect my character arcs for everyone else, if I never check in and look at it from their eyes. Enjolras isn't always the most insightful kid in the room, especially when it comes to relationships, so it's been kind of fun seeing what he notices about his friends and what goes right over his pretty little head. It's been fun so far, but it's also making it difficult to advance the subplot with Combeferre and Feuilly and Jehan. So yeah, sorry about not really moving them forward by much this chapter. I'll see what I can get done in the next one...or rather, how much Enjolras will notice about what's going on around him!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, this one took a long while to write. The characters are cooperating as far as moving things forward goes and things are getting interesting. Here's hoping it doesn't take me too long to get the next chapter done. I'm getting pretty curious about what the boys are working towards myself!
> 
> (so yeah, I didn't plot this one out in advance...I'm just writing this one for funsies and reflection).

The next time Enjolras went to the Musain to hang with his friends he walked in to find that they'd pretty much taken over the back room. It took four tables to hold them now.

Courfeyrac appeared to have gotten whatever arrangement he'd been hoping to get going with Feuilly worked out with Bahorel. The two of them flirted with each other incessantly and often went home together, but they just as often went home with others. At the moment they were sharing a laptop, reading through some amusing article or other. Courfeyrac looked to be genuinely interested in what he was reading but Bahorel looked more invested in having an excuse to crowd the other boy's space.

Feuilly and Combeferre were sitting across from them, similarly crowded together, but leaning over an open book that they were both clearly interested in. Combeferre was tracing his finger along the page, calling Feuilly's attention to something. Feuilly glanced between the book and Combeferre's face as he spoke, eyes soft and transfixed. Their free hands were gently clasped below the table.

Enjolras was still adjusting to this new version of his roommate he'd been graced with since the holidays. This Combeferre made sure he brushed his hair before he left the house (and often returned with it in a state of dishevelment). He ironed his clothes and put on cologne and smiled dreamily at nothing if you left him alone with his thoughts for too long. It wasn't a bad change, it was just something different.

The poly trio had the middle table. Musichetta and Lesgle were sharing a couple of scones while Joly rattled off the nutritional information in a vain attempt to scare them out of their unhealthful choice. The other two smiled indulgently at the hypochondriac, both politely refraining from pointing out that health considerations weren't an active part of their snack selection.

A boy Enjolras was pretty sure he'd never seen before was sitting at the next table. He was exceptionally attractive, with thick dark hair and eyes that could be classified as dreamy by Courfeyrac's use of the term while also meaning someone inclined to spacing out. He looked a little lost, but then, Grantaire was talking to him about something and the mocking grin he wore could easily explain the stranger's confusion.

Prouvaire was sitting alone at the last of the pushed together tables, a book open in front of him but doing nothing to command his attention. The days since the New Year's party had seen an alteration in him as well as Combeferre. This one had some good sides to it. Like Combeferre, Prouvaire was dressing with more attention. His outfits always flattered him these days and were he interested in grabbing the attention of strangers he'd have been highly successful. He was even coming out of his shell a little. He spoke up more when they were hanging out, and he wasn't shy about voicing a contrary opinion.

Unfortunately, the newfound assertiveness didn't seem to be coming from a good place. Prouvaire was irritable, prone to sullen silences instead of his former periods of meditative withdrawal, and if you left him on his own for too long he inevitably wound up moodily staring wherever Combeferre happened to be.

Enjolras considered leaving Prouvaire alone at his table and sitting with his boyfriend instead but ultimately sat with Prouvaire. Grantaire was only one table over, and they were sitting on the same side. It wasn't much of a sacrifice, and it'd have been wrong to leave his friend alone.

"What are you reading?" Enjolras asked by way of making conversation.

"Hm? Oh." Prouvaire glanced down at the book to remind himself. "Dickinson. Last free read before the semester starts up and academia reclaims my soul." DIckinson also qualified as comfort-reading to the withdrawn young poet. His choice of material wasn't what Enjolras would have classified as encouraging regarding his friend's mental state.

"Ah. I was reading up on Ida B. Wells for my last romp of intellectual freedom until May." Enjolras chatted about his book for a few minutes but even he could only keep a conversation afloat for so long without any input from his companion. He followed Prouvaire's line of sight and observed that Combeferre had put his arm around Feuilly and was softly reading aloud to him. Enjolras frowned and turned back to Prouvaire. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just bitter. It'll pass eventually. Um. Sorry." He gave himself a little shake. "How are things? Are you itching to get back to class?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Not as much as I usually am by this point in a break. I've...been enjoying my time off a bit more than usual this time. I'm not feeling stir crazy in the least." His gaze strayed to his boyfriend, and he smiled sadly, thinking about how much less time he'd have available once classes resumed on Wednesday. 

"That's a nice change. I'm glad you and R are happy together. I just wish...well, I really ought to stop stewing over that. Um, I've noticed you haven't procured any table rent yet. Would you like me to get you something? My treat. I was thinking of getting one of those cinnamon scones Joly was warning Musichetta against. With that many calories, they ought to taste amazing."

Enjolras asked for a coffee as well, tried and failed to give Prouvaire some money, and then was left alone at the table. He thought about taking out his book but ended up shifting his chair closer to the next table instead. He lightly kicked Grantaire's calf to get his attention. "Were you ever going to say hi to me?"

"Course I was, right after I finished disabusing Pontmercy here of his ridiculous notion that Courfeyrac knows shit about politics." Grantaire waved to indicate the new guy. "Enjolras, this is Marius Pontmercy. Marius, this is Enjolras. By some prodigious miscalculation of fate, we're dating. Enjolras is just as foolishly idealistic about social change as Courfeyrac. Worse, even, since he's planning on devoting his life to misery and suffering."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "So you're friends with Courfeyrac, then?" He shouldn't have been surprised. Whenever a new person joined their clique, Courfeyrac was always involved in some way.

Marius nodded. "I think so. He and Laigle sort of grabbed me and said I had to come meet the other guys. Is this everyone? I'm not sure I'll be able to keep all the names straight."

"Mm. Certainly doesn't help that Lesgle has like five names," Grantaire said. "Don't worry about it. Most of us'll respond to whatever you want to call us."

"Marius, get your cute butt over here! You've gotta read this Cracked article Bahorel showed me." Courfeyrac waved Marius over to his table and the kid obediently went to sit with the handsy pseudo-couple.

Grantaire smiled indulgently and shook his head. "That kid is too much. Well, actually it's the opposite. He's the most sheltered creature I've ever seen. Everything is brand frickin' new to him. And he believes everything you say..."

Enjolras groaned. "What have you been telling him, R?"

"Don't worry!" Marius called over to them. "I already figured out not to trust most of what Grantaire says."

"Atta boy, Marius!" Courfeyrac affectionately ruffled his hair, and then his eyes lit up. "Oh my god, you guys, he has the softest hair I've ever touched! Seriously, Bahorel, feel his hair! It's exactly as soft and shiny as it looks."

"Courf, I don't think you can actually feel shine. It's not tactile."

"Feuilly, shut up and touch his hair. I swear, you'll  _feel_ the shine."

Enjolras scowled at them. "Do we need to have another conversation about body autonomy and consent? Marius, are you okay with Courfeyrac making everyone grab your head?"

"Um...now that you mention it I'd rather you guys not." Marius frowned at Courfeyrac. "I'm sorry."

"Dude, don't worry about it. I'm just being a spazz. I don't mean anything by it. Enjolras  _knows_ that."

"And I take my duty to reel you in when you need it very seriously," Enjolras said. Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at him, then turned back to the computer screen with Bahorel and Marius leaning in from either side.

"See? Too cute for words. I think he actually feels guilty about wanting a bunch of gay guys to stop touching his head." Grantaire grinned. 

"Is Marius straight?" Enjolras asked. His time in college had seen him mixing with a lot of LGBT+ activists, and it had gotten to the point where the heteronormativity he'd formerly experienced in society had reversed. Now he generally assumed all the casual acquaintances he met through his friends were gay unless they said otherwise.

"Yep. I can't tell if he's noticed he's the only one or not. But there's a freshman he's crushing on. It all sounds very sweet and a tad bit stalker-ish. He's pretty sure her name's Ursula, but that's just because he was reading her mail and he saw something addressed to U. Fauchelevant and he couldn't think of another girl name that starts with U."

"He was reading her..."

"Like I said, it's a bit stalker-ish."

"I'd say that's more than a bit."

Prouvaire sat down across from them. He set a large mug of coffee in front of Enjolras, for which he was grateful, and followed it up with a frosted scone the size of a baby's head. Enjolras frowned at it. That was far more pastry than he'd expected. "Grantaire...did you want to share this with me?"

"Yeah, this monster looks like it'd be best carved in half. Your portion'd go from this frosted part here over to that side, right?" He traced his finger roughly down the middle of the scone. The actual middle, not the distorted portion size Enjolras would have identified on his own. "That'd be a perfect split between us."

Enjolras silently thanked him by squeezing his hand under the table. Grantaire squeezed his hand back, then rubbed his thumb along the palm of Enjolras' hand while he ate, keeping him steady and grounded.

* * *

 They ended up leaving the cafe early, at Enjolras' insistence. He took Grantaire's hand once they were outside and started tugging him in the direction of his apartment. He quirked an eyebrow in response. Generally, they hung out at Enjolras and Combeferre's apartment for the free heat. They only went to Grantaire's significantly more decrepit place if they wanted privacy.

Grantaire didn't say anything about it until they were inside. Enjolras had already kicked off his shoes and sat down on the futon mattress, curling his knees up to his chest and wrapping a blanket tightly around his shoulders.

"So...everything okay?"

"Yep. I just wanted to talk a bit about break ending. Um...last semester was probably a bit of an indication for you, but...I'm not going to have much time once classes resume. I just want to make sure that you get that, and that you won't twist things around and assume I'm trying to avoid you or anything."

Grantaire was still unwrapping a scarf from his neck. He stopped mid-action, eyes widening as he thought that over. "Good catch. Yeah, you're right. I'd totally have construed you needing time for homework and shit as you having second thoughts over the relationship. I do enough of that even when we are seeing each other every day."

Enjolras bit hit lip and nodded. "I'd assumed as much." Because he did the exact same thing. He sent Grantaire texts before going to sleep and upon waking for his own comfort as much as his boyfriend's. "I want this to work, but I'm nervous about school. I...well, you've seen how stressed out I get."

Grantaire nodded. He finished yanking off the scarf, kicked off his shoes, and crouched down next to Enjolras on the mattress. He cupped Enjolras' face in his hands and leaned in for a gentle kiss. "So we just have to keep talking to each other, just like this. If we're honest, our broken brains can only misconstrue things so badly."

"I'm so bad at this," Enjolras said, once more giving voice to a pretty consistent fear that had been plaguing him since he'd realized the extent of his feelings for Grantaire. "I have a hard enough time even keeping friendships in tact, let alone..."

"Well then," Grantaire said, reaching down to squeeze Enjolras' hands. "That makes me feel pretty fucking special. Seriously, I'm such a unique snowflake, huh? For you to have spent an entire god damn day kissing me and telling me I was worth the bullshit and that you weren't going away even if I kept flipping out. That really meant something, huh?"

"It did. It does. I...I was happy being single." Enjolras' throat got tight and his famed eloquence left him as he floundered to find the words for what was scaring him so badly. "I've never felt strongly enough for anyone to try to pursue them before. This isn't something I ever...it's all pretty new to me. I'm going to fuck everything up, I know it."

"Enjolras..."

"Don't. You know as well as I do that if we're  _both_ having a bad day at the same time it's not going to end well. This conversation is only working because you're being stable and grounded and I'm leaning on you." 

Grantaire frowned. "I thought I was the pessimist. You sound like me."

"I'm not blind to reality just because I want things to be better than they are." Enjolras gave himself a little shake. "I'm sorry. You're being so good right now and I'm being needlessly bleak. I just...don't want anything bad to happen between us. I don't want your illness to ever convince you that I don't care for you, but I know it's likely to happen and happen soon."

Grantaire didn't have an easy comeback for that one because there wasn't one. They'd already had a few issues on break. School was going to be a test and Enjolras wasn't sure they were up to it.

Grantaire settled for a more tactile approach instead of trying to reason his boyfriend's demons away. He hugged Enjolras to his side and gently lowered them until they were settled against the pillows. He pressed a few kisses against Enjolras' jawline, all the while keeping his arms firmly wrapped around Enjolras. Enjolras let out a slow, shaky breath and hid his face against Grantaire's chest. "This sucks. I wish at least one of us was healthy."

"You're just in a shit mood, Enj. Most of the time we're fine. It could certainly be a lot worse. I've definitely been worse." He loosened his hold for a second just so he could poke one of his blunt fingers between Enjolras' shoulder blades. "You see what you're doing to me? I sound optimistic. You know why? Because you make me happy. I'm actually not interested in fucking that up, to be honest."

"Do you really think we're going to be okay?" Enjolras risked looking up. His voice was stupidly small. He wanted to get a grip on himself, but was also thankful to be alone with Grantaire where he didn't necessarily have to if he couldn't. 

"Yeah, I do. It's...going to sound unforgivably schmoopy but I guess I've got to say it. I don't believe in much, but I do believe in you and by extension us. It's...it's like, I feel safe talking to you and I know you feel that way too. So when I'm being crazy I'll just call you or text you and go, 'hey Enj, I'm being fucking crazy. Can you tell me you don't hate me?' and you'll get it and be like, 'you're being stupid and crazy. Still gone for you. have a good night.' And then I'll shrug it off and we'll be cool. Because that's what we've  _been_ doing. I've never had someone I could talk to like this. It's the fucking best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I had no idea how much I needed this until I found you," Enjolras whispered, voice still scratchy and weak but for all that containing an undercurrent of determination. 

"The fact that you got this jumpy about not being able to see me as much is endearing. It's almost cute, really. Except cute is never a word I'd use for you." Grantaire stroked back some of Enjolras' hair, a look of baffled wonder on his face. "You're actually really magnificent, you know. I've been in awe of you since I first met you. And getting to know you better really hasn't diminished any of that."

"Stop it. You'll make me blush."

"I know you're joking, but I'm going to take that as a challenge."

Enjolras couldn't help but laugh as his boyfriend pressed open, wet kisses along his jaw and neck. They weren't quite as sexy as they might have been, and Grantaire's wild hair was tickling his skin. "Cut it out, unless you're going to be serious about it."

"Who says I'm not serious? I'm fucking wild, is what I am." Grantaire leaned up on his knees, grinning down at Enjolras. "There. You're radiant and smiling again. That's much better."

"You're in a pretty good mood today, huh?" Enjolras trailed his hands up Grantaire's sides.

"With you in my bed, how could I not be? I'm crazy, not stupid." He bent down and started sucking a bruise onto Enjolras' neck. Enjolras shivered at the sensation. He closed his eyes and basked in the feel of his amazing boyfriend's comforting weight on top of him while the strong hands he loved getting furtive touches from impatiently fumbled to undress him.

"You're so god damn beautiful," Grantaire said, voice soft with devotion. Enjolras was glad Courfeyrac had clued him in to Grantaire's double meaning with that phrase, though he suspected at the moment Grantaire's intention was the more straightforward interpretation.

"And you are wearing entirely too many layers," Enjolras returned. He gave the hem of Grantaire's shirt an impatient tug. "Fix that, please."

Grantaire smirked at him. "Anything you say." He was much more efficient about stripping out of his own clothes, and then he was right back to passionately kissing Enjolras senseless, hands everywhere as their exposed skin met and warmed each other in the frigidly cold apartment. Enjolras dragged his fingers down Grantaire's back, blunt nails leaving small reddish marks over Grantaire's elaborate back-piece. 

Yeah...he was either going to have to find a way to accept a few B's next semester or figure out how to run on even less sleep, because there was no way he was going to cut back on sex with Grantaire. Now that he had a boyfriend he was emotionally invested in and insanely attracted to, he understood some behaviors of Courfeyrac's that he'd always found mystifying.

Grantaire settled himself between Enjolras' legs, forearms resting on Enjolras' abdomen to prop him up. He could undoubtedly feel how excited he'd gotten his boyfriend, but he feigned a casual sort of interest as he studied Enjolras' heaving chest and flushed face. "You've put me in quite a dilemma, Enj. You look so delicious right now that I'm pretty sure I'd like nothing better than to suck you off. On the other hand, you look exceptionally fuckable right now too. The indecision has me paralyzed."

Enjolras wrapped his leg around Grantaire's back and delivered a sharp kick since his skeletal fingers were too busy clenching the blankets to give a solid poke. "I don't care, just get me off. I swear, you don't even care about the orgasms, do you? You just like torturing me."

"Well, you look so fetching writing around like that. I can't help myself. But if you're feeling this feisty I think we should go with fucking. I can always suck you off later."

"I like this plan."

"I thought you might." For all Grantaire's posturing, his expression was remarkably tender. He hauled Enjolras up into a passionate kiss. Enjolras groaned his appreciation and clung to Grantaire, their bodies fitting together in all the best ways. Enjolras' insecurities were so far from his mind that if he was careful he could even forget how scared he was of losing this. It was the closest he'd ever come to just living in the moment and enjoying what was actually in front of him.

When Grantaire finally broke the kiss to fumble around the clutter on the side of the mattress for the condoms and lube Enjolras almost blurted out his feelings. Thankfully, he was stopped not only by the remnants of his anxiety but by a desire to declare his love for Grantaire in a more fitting moment. He wanted Grantaire to take him seriously, not dismiss the feelings as misconstrued lust or sensation. Then Grantaire was stretching him and Enjolras lost the last of his nagging inner monologue to the pleasure of Grantaire's careful movements.

"Yeah, tempting as your cock looks right now, this was definitely the right choice. I fucking love the way you writhe under me."

"You absolutely destroy me in all the best ways."

Apparently Enjolras might as well have just said the L word. Grantaire's small smile and bewildered eyes certainly conveyed a more emotional response than lust. "Likewise." He slowly  scissored his fingers, eyes fixed to Enjolras', carefully watching him for signs of anything other than pleasure. "How's that feel? You ready for me, beautiful?"

"Yes, please. Don't make me beg this time, R, I'm not in the fucking mood for it."

"Definitely a feisty day." He gave his fingers one last teasing crook and then switched tasks, fumbling a little in his haste to open the condom. "Don't worry, Enj. I'm not really feeling like taking my time. You really do fucking destroy me."

"Less banter. More fucking." He gave Grantaire another light kick to the back as encouragement.

"You're going to make me rip the condom."

"Well hurry up. God, are you this uncoordinated?"

"Are you this spoiled and impatient? I don't see you helping." Grantaire finally got the condom on, but as he reached for the lube Enjolras yanked it away. He liberally applied it to Grantaire's erection, taking a particular joy in the way his pretty eyes widened and loving the sounds he made while Enjolras stroked him. Then he got back into position, and slyly arched his brow at his boyfriend. He wiggled his hips a little, silently asking his boyfriend to get on with it. "Saucy little thing, aren't you?"

"I repeat, less banter, more fucking."

"Oh no, my dear, if that's the response I get you'd better believe I will not be cutting down on banter."

"R, please?"

Enjolras was almost sure Grantaire was going to continue tormenting him, but instead of just teasingly pressing against him he slowly fucked in. He leaned close and kissed Enjolras' neck and jaw as his erection sank into him. Enjolras loudly moaned his appreciation, fingers digging into Grantaire's back. He was still for a moment after he bottomed out, the only sound in the room their mingled heavy breathing while Enjolras adjusted.

"Ready for me, beautiful?" Grantaire whispered. Their faces were so close together. Enjolras got lost a moment in the depths of Grantaire's eyes, in the feel and scent and sound of him. He wondered why they were stopping and then realized he hadn't actually nodded. He rectified that immediately, and just as immediately Grantaire started to move, with such eagerness and desperation that Enjolras was left in no doubt about how excited his lover was for him.

One of the many things he loved about Grantaire was his understanding of the importance of continued and enthusiastic consent. He'd never been with anyone who cared so deeply about  _him_ , as opposed to just taking their own pleasure.

Grantaire rambled all kinds of ridiculous nonsense as he fucked Enjolras. He had those moods sometimes where he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself. Enjolras accepted the rambling as a part of the experience, just like the slick slap of skin on skin and the groans coming from deep in his own throat. He met Grantaire's thrusts with the snap of his own hips, vainly trying to take his lover deeper, exulting in the feel of being so intimately joined to him.

When Grantaire's firm, calloused grip surrounded his cock he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Enjolras was fairly inexperienced to begin with, and was fast reaching his threshold for pleasure. He cried out Grantaire's name as he came, and fell limply back against the mattress riding out his orgasm while Grantaire continued to fuck him and babble his feelings. This time, at least, Grantaire didn't outlast him by much.

Not that Grantaire ever made him feel bad about his sexual inexperience, but Enjolras still got embarrassed from time to time. Even Grantaire, the reclusive shut-in who hadn't made friends with anyone outside the internet until he met Courfeyrac still had more experience than Enjolras. It was difficult not to be a little insecure about it, though Grantaire was quick to reassure him that the insecurity was just as irrational as any of their other anxieties.

Grantaire flopped uselessly against Enjolras. Enjolras held him close, burying one hand in the sweat damp tangle of raven hair and planting the other firmly on his back where he could feel raised bumps from the earlier drag of his nails. "We're sticky and gross," Grantaire breathed.

"Your pillow talk could use some work."

"Okay, fine, I'm sticky and gross. I'm sure your sweat and cum smell like jasmine and rainbows, you unearthly beautiful bastard. I've got some tissues over by the book pile. No, not that book pile. The other one."

"Where you keep the lube?"

"Yeah, there." 

While he was thinking of it, Enjolras tossed the lube back to its "spot." They'd wasted enough time in the past trying to retrieve it, and it wasn't a problem he wanted to deal with again. He snagged the tissues, and they spent a moment cleaning each other up before resuming the cuddles under the fluffiest of Grantaire's blankets.

Enjolras stretched languidly and slowly, like a contented cat. It turned out to be a mistake because Grantaire's apartment was, as per usual, absolutely frigid, and he ended up folding himself back under the blankets and pressing as close to Grantaire as possible almost immediately. He could feel the rumble of Grantaire's laugh better than he heard it. "I need to find a word that means majestically beautiful and adorable mushed together. Because you're too scary to actually be cute, and yet..."

"Oh shut up." Enjolras did just that by kissing him. "Do you think we could be really frivolous and turn the heat up, just this once? Otherwise I'm going to have to put my clothes back on."

"Well if you're going to threaten me like that then I guess, yeah." Grantaire made a feeble motion towards getting up but Enjolras hugged him tighter. "O terrifyingly adorable one, if you want the heat to come on you'll have to let go of me for at least a minute or two." 

"But you're warm too..." Enjolras grumbled. He indulged himself with one more squeeze, then let go of Grantaire and burrowed into the blankets. He watched as Grantaire walked unabashedly naked across the small room to adjust the thermostat. It was an undoubtedly fine view from Enjolras' vantage point, and besides that, there was something hypnotic about watching Grantaire's tattoos when his body was in motion. Enjolras was looking forward to the summertime, when viewing them would be a regular thing.

Grantaire's back was turned, but he must have sensed Enjolras ogling him because he wiggled his butt. "Like what you see?"

"I'd think our activities of a moment ago would clue you in on that. Yes, very much."

Grantaire grinned sheepishly when he turned around. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Damned if I can figure out why. You should be able to come out of the blanket burrito now, by the way. It's going to be seventy in here soon and you're the one who should actually be on display."

"Do you really think you're ugly?" It was a notion he'd been toying with since the New Year's party and one Enjolras still couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

"Yes." Grantaire sat down on the end of the mattress and tugged the blankets down. Enjolras sat up a bit and edged over, making room for Grantaire to slide in next to him. "I think it's another sign of your brain being broken if you honestly don't see it. And I swear, I'm fine about it. My self-esteem isn't tied up in my looks. I think I'm shit for a whole host of reasons completely unrelated to my face, if that makes you feel better."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I guess my brain must be broken because I honestly don't see it. I think you're stunning."

"Hm. Lucky me, I guess. If I believed in reincarnation I might be tempted to think I'd done something worthwhile in a past life to deserve you. And I know I keep bringing up your looks. I should stop that because it's so much more than physical. Like yes, you're gorgeous, and I love fucking you, but there's more to it than that."

"R?"

"What?"

Enjolras leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose. "You're rambling."

"Yeah, I do that."

"It's okay. I love you too."

The skin around his eyes crinkled with the force of his smile. "Was that what I was trying to say?"

"I think you were working your way there, yes. The succinct version is to say you love me."

"Desperately. Stupidly. I'd do anything for you, yes. If not you, no one." Grantaire smoothed Enjolras' hair back and kissed his forehead. "So yes, I love you. And you really love me?"

"I do," Enjolras said, surprised at how easy the admission came. He'd expected the weight of anxiety to make him keep that to himself a bit longer than he had. He didn't regret having it out in the open though. "You're very dear to me. Try to remember that when I disappear into a mound of homework, over-caffeination and stress."

"Like I could possibly forget hearing those words from you. You're my fucking world, Enjolras. Can you say it one more time?"

"Absolutely. I love you." Enjolras grinned at him. "And I don't mind having it be a regular thing, us saying that to each other. I like hearing it too." 

They might have stayed that way for hours, snuggling under the blankets and getting progressively more sentimental and ridiculous as the evening wore on, but they were interrupted by Grantaire's phone. Grantaire abruptly ended a kiss and regarded Enjolras with a questioning look. "Should I ignore that? I think I should ignore that."

"Several of our friends are tap dancing around emotional crises. At least see who it is first."

"Gotcha." Grantaire reluctantly broke away and started digging around their discarded clothes. He snagged his phone out of a sweatshirt pocket and groaned. "It's Prouvaire. I guess that means I should answer it, huh?"

Enjolras started fumbling around for his clothes. "He could be having a panic attack, R."

"Yeah, yeah." He swiped the screen to accept the call and flopped back against the bed. "Hey dude. What's up?"

Enjolras finished dressing himself and then pointedly dropped Grantaire's boxers on top of his beautifully defined abs. Grantaire wasn't saying much so Enjolras couldn't follow the gist of their conversation, but he got from Grantaire's facial expression that it wasn't going well. Grantaire slowly dragged his free hand over his face and grimaced. "Yeah, come on upstairs. Enjolras is here though, so take your time. I've got to put my pants back on...no, we're done. Please come upstairs or I'll just run out into the street and drag you back here. Okay, see you in a sec."

"Don't you have to go unlock the door?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shook his head. "Nah. I gave him a key after his last panic attack."

"You...Jehan has a key to your apartment?"

"Yeah. He crashes here sometimes when he's feeling overwhelmed...kind of like you do. Shit. Huh. The next time I'm downtown I'll make you a key."

Enjolras shook his head and stomped over to the door, ostensibly waiting to let Prouvaire in but just really needing a little distance to process that. He was having an irrational response, but knowing it was irrational didn't make it go away. "Don't worry about it, R. It's fine." It's not like he had a reason to be irritated. He'd yet to actually need the key, and it's not like he'd thought to give a key to his apartment to Grantaire.

"Enjolras, it's not an issue, really. Whoops." Grantaire overbalanced in his haste to get his pants on and almost landed on the floor. "I'll make you a key. Honestly, it'd be kind of nice to come home and unexpectedly find you here from time to time. I think I'd like that."

Enjolras offered him a small smile. "Nice save."

"Thanks. I thought I did pretty well there." He grabbed his shirt off the ground but rather than put it on walked across the room to Enjolras and kissed him. "We've been dating for less than a month. I didn't think to offer you a key, and if I had it would have seemed kind of creepy and presumptuous, right?"

"Yes, I know." Enjolras sighed. "It's just...look, you're really close to Jehan. Sometimes I get a little irrational about it."

"Really?"

Enjolras felt his face grow warm. He pulled away from Grantaire and stalked back over to the mattress. "I know, I'm stupid. Let's drop it before he gets here."

"No, I think we need to talk about that one," Grantaire said, a sharpness Enjolras rarely heard in his voice. He flinched, which was probably a sensory memory of Grantaire yelling him into a panic attack. "You know how bad I am at getting close to people. You even fucking offered me your friends, and you're jealous because I bonded with one of them? Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is?"

"Yes, I do, that's why I've never brought it up, now can we drop it please?" Enjolras dropped his head into his hands and took a slow, steady breath. "Maybe I should go. You and Jehan are probably going to be leaning on each other for a bit and I set him off when he's emotional."

"No, Enj...look, I'm sorry. I just...don't do well with jealousy, okay? It's kinda important to me that you trust me."

"I do. Of course I do, it's not anything like that." Enjolras looked up at him in amazement.

Grantaire pulled on his shirt, the static leaving his hair more on end and poofy than usual. "Well what the fuck is it then? You're not actually afraid I'd leave you for Jehan...oh for fuck's sake Enj, really?"

"Shut up."

"We just confessed our love for each other like five minutes ago."

"I know! It's not a rational fear, okay? It's the usual fucking anxious fear. I love you and I really hate leaving your side, so obviously _something's_ going to fuck the whole thing up for me. Whether it's my own obnoxious personality pushing you away, or me being bad at sex, or me not having enough time, or you deciding I'm not worth the trouble, it is actually stupidly scary to me that you're effortlessly close to one of my friends, okay?" Enjolras hugged his knees to his chest and smacked his forehead against them. The fear of losing Grantaire to suicide or self-harm, a constant terror he never talked about, went unsaid. "Besides, I'm not the only one who sees it. 'Ferre thought Jehan was in love with you, and that's why he was working on getting over him."

"Really?"

Enjolras looked up at the surprised squeak that most definitely hadn't come from his boyfriend. And sure enough, there was Prouvaire, looking absolutely gobsmacked and frozen in the doorway.

"You may have come at a bad time," Grantaire said.

"Sorry. I, um...I guess I could go back to the Musain and talk to Courfeyrac instead. But, um, I think he might have left with Marius. I'm really sorry. I can wait. I'll go."

"No, it's okay. I'm just being stupid. It's fine. You should stay. I'll go," Enjolras said. 

"Oh absolutely fucking not, not with all that crap you just spouted," Grantaire said. He took Prouvaire by the elbow, tugged him into the room and then shut the door behind him. "Both of you sit down, shut up, and listen to me for at least a few minutes." 

Prouvaire did as told. He kicked off his shoes and took a seat next to Enjolras. He was fidgeting something terrible, and his eyes generally remained fixed on his flexing fingers.

"Okay," Grantaire said. He took slow measured steps across the floorboards in front of the mattress. He was still shirtless and barefoot. Enjolras might have been distracted if he hadn't just gotten off, but then, the tension in his chest also made that prospect fundamentally unlikely. He found himself watching the little skull tattoo on Grantaire's hip. It flexed with his movements and the regularity of it was soothing.

"So on the plus side, Enj, you acknowledged in your rant that you know you're being irrational. And seriously, you'd have to be pretty far gone to think there's a chance that I'd ever leave you for someone else."

"Enjolras, really?" Prouvaire gasped. "Oh dear...I thought you of all people wouldn't be insecure like that."

"He puts on a good show, Jean, but get him one on one and he'll surprise you with how human he is," Grantaire said with a smirk. "Troubled by the same illogical doubts and fears as the rest of us, it seems."

Enjolras pressed his lips together and looked away from Grantaire. "You're the one who always tries to get me on that pedestal. I've never pretended to be above anyone else."

"Except for how you suffer in silence with all the mental stuff. You haven't told anyone else you're struggling too," Grantaire pointed out."

"I have. I talk to Courfeyrac about it sometimes, and Combeferre knows about my panic attacks."

Prouvaire's eyes widened. "I hadn't realized you had panic attacks too. Oh Enjolras, are you going through some of the same things me and Grantaire are?"

"I...I just don't like talking about it. I never know what to say." He edged to the side a little, since it looked like Prouvaire was alarmingly close to hugging him. "Grantaire, can we please do this later? I don't, I mean...what I just said...we can go over it, but can we do it in private?"

Prouvaire climbed to his feet. "This is wrong. I'm not going to intrude on this. But Enjolras, you have my sympathy and you've always had my love. If you ever need anything, I've been there and I'll help you to the best of my ability."

"It's stupid that you haven't been talking to him," Grantaire said. "It's fucking stupid that you hide this. There's no reason for it, you know. None of your friends are going to think less of you for being mentally ill. And you always talk about the importance of visibility and representation. Well you're a pretty fucking solid example of how well people can function with mental illness. You could do a lot yourself regarding the stigma shit Feuilly was talking about the other night. I just don't get it."

"It's  _hard_ , okay? Maybe if I knew what I was doing, or felt like I was handling it as well as you seem to think I am then I'd be more vocal, but I'm not and I can't treat this like my social activism. Can we stop now? Jehan, why did you come over? What's...what's going on with you? Please somebody talk about something else."

Prouvaire's voice was hesitant when he spoke up. "I...I did something unforgivably foolish just now. I need to have a good cry, and I wanted to come here in case a panic follows because I can feel that itchiness, like my skin doesn't fit right and I can't sit still, so it's building and I think it will erupt when I start talking about it and thinking too much." He closed his eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath. "I-I'm not sure this is a great combination. What if we all set each other off?"

"I'm not feeling panicky," Grantaire said. "Shit. I was actually having a really good day, honestly, but now I feel like punching something. I could use a run."

"I could use a hug." Enjolras' voice sounded awfully close to a whimper. He squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace. He wished Prouvaire hadn't done whatever stupid thing had set him off and that he and Grantaire were still cuddling. It had been so nice while it lasted.

Then Grantaire was sitting next to him, and he pulled Enjolras into a tight embrace that he melted into. "Calm down, Enj. Everything's actually really okay. Shit..." He carded his hand through Enjolras' hair and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, then shifted a little, apparently to better address Prouvaire. "He's been having a really nervous day. He was dead convinced we were going to break up when our workload at school gets too heavy."

"Well that's not a completely unfounded fear. Enjolras is terrible at time management and you're emotionally very needy. I expect I'll have to come by at least a few times a week and knock some sense into you when you start convincing yourself that Enjolras secretly hates you when he's actually just studying."

Enjolras peeked up and chanced a smile at Prouvaire. "Exactly."

"Hey, just because you're right it doesn't make you any less flinchy. You've been off all day. All week even. You keep thinking we're fighting when we're not."

"I know. I think I'm hitting the bad part of a cycle," Enjolras murmured. He closed his eyes and focused on the soft, bare skin pressed against his cheek. 

Grantaire sighed and switched to rubbing his hands along Enjolras' back. "Well, just keep talking, I guess. I'm feeling pretty good right now so maybe I can be the sane and grounded one this week. Fuck. We really are going to be in trouble if we ever crash at the same time."

"All couples fight," Prouvaire offered. "Yours are probably going to be a little more emotionally charged than some, but you're both very insightful about the other's needs and you communicate wonderfully well. I think you'll be okay as long as you're careful about it."

"Thank you, Jehan." Enjolras turned in Grantaire's arms so he could look at his friend. Prouvaire's smile was strained and he was still fidgeting. "I'm feeling much better now. I...I really don't mind leaving, if you wanted to discuss this alone."

Grantaire rolled his eyes and even Prouvaire looked a little mockingly amused at Enjolras' blatant lie. "It's okay," Prouvaire said. "You'll probably hear about it anyway. R, don't you dare stop hugging him. I feel better just for looking at how contented the two of you make each other. Okay, anyway, my fuck up..." he took a deep breath. "I might have told Feuilly about my feelings for Combeferre."

"Oh. Well, I mean, that's really awkward and I'm guessing it was uncomfortable, but it probably wasn't as bad as-" 

Prouvaire shook his head and effectively silenced Grantaire with the traumatized look on his face. "No, I-I stood up and yelled at him. He and 'Ferre were being very cute, and Combeferre kept looking at me and sometimes he looked guilty and sometimes he look, like defiant. I-I might have just been imagining that, but I swear it was meant to get under my skin. Like, look what you might have had if you were just a little less damaged and hadn't hid for so long. And then Feuilly started saying all this inane nonsense about how lucky he was to have landed the smartest radical in the room for a boyfriend and how amazing it was that he'd met all these amazing guys through his boyfriend, and I know he was trying to be nice because the poor dear has no clue, so I just...I just jumped to my feet and blurted it all out. I told him he was a fool and that he was just more assertive than me and I...I reminded him that they've only been dating for a couple of weeks and I called him an idiot. And then, to finish my de-evolution into a small child, I burst into tears and ran here."

Enjolras leaned back from Grantaire and held out his arm. "Come here."

Prouvaire hesitated a second, lower lip wobbling alarmingly, before he joined them in a group hug. He tucked his head under Enjolras' chin, and Grantaire traced a soothing pattern on his back with one hand.

They remained like that for some time, comforting each other and taking comfort. Prouvaire cried at different intervals and Grantaire soothed him and calmed him down, but he never once uttered the phrase "it's okay" because they all knew it wasn't. Having his pain seen and understood was much more important to Prouvaire right then than comforting lies.

Enjolras mostly remained quiet. He hugged Prouvaire the same as Grantaire and quietly hurt for him in his distress, but he had a nagging worry all the while about what he would face when he returned home to his roommate...

 


	9. Chapter 9

Enjolras was prepared when he got home. He'd stopped by the bookstore and a convenience store on his way, so he had a book on Lepidopteran species and a bag of snacks to offer his roommate as a show of sympathy.

Combeferre was sprawled over the couch when Enjolras got in. He didn't look up from the book in his hands, and he had his earbuds in, with Grim settled snugly over his feet. Enjolras stood in front of him for a moment, hoping he'd be acknowledged, but Combeferre only stubbornly turned a page. With a defeated sigh, Enjolras set the bag on the coffee table in front of him. Taking note of the fact that the earbuds remained in but no music appeared to be coming from them (though Grimalkin's purrs were perfectly audible), Enjolras quietly offered to talk if Combeferre wanted to, then left for his room.

He flopped onto his bed and thought about texting Grantaire, although it seemed pretty pointless since he didn't really have an update for him yet. They'd already assumed Combeferre's response to Prouvaire's declaration was going to be "not well." He was hoping to discover more specifics.

Enjolras glanced at the pile of text books sitting on his desk in preparation for the new semester. Usually, by this point in the break he'd have skimmed through them and done some preliminary highlights before the more thorough readings they'd require for exams and papers. He hadn't even opened them yet, and a few of his US history books looked really interesting.

He still hadn't opened a book and was still in bed trying to think of what to text Grantaire when his door was nudged open. Enjolras sat up and turned towards Combeferre, who looked awful. Unless Enjolras was much mistaken, there were tear tracks on his face and Combeferre was  _not_ a crier. "Hey."

"Hey." Combeferre's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Um...I actually would like to talk for a bit, if that's okay."

"Of course it is."

"Keep it between us though? I, um, it's just that where Grantaire and Jean are such good friends...y'know..."

Enjolras patted the mattress and rolled his eyes. "I won't betray your secrets to my boyfriend. Granted, I've got to tell him something. Jehan showed up at R's apartment while I was still there and he was a mess, so we figured you were probably having a hard time too. I've promised to let him know if you're okay and if you need anything."

"Oh. Well that's rather nice of him. Considering we don't, we don't really talk. At least, not about important things. Just movies and stuff." Combeferre sat down next to Enjolras and dropped his head into his hands. "God, it's all such a mess. I made a mess of everything. And it really is my fault. I misread Jehan, and I led Feuilly on, and you tipped me off about Jehan's feelings but I didn't listen to you and I pursued Feuilly anyway even though I didn't feel as strongly for him and now it's all imploded like I should have known it would from the get-go."

"What happened after Jean left?"

Combeferre sat up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Feuilly asked me what the fuck all that was about, of course. He wanted to know if I knew that Jehan liked me, which of course I did so I said yes, and then he got this funny look on his face and he got all pale and he asked why I never told him. And I couldn't really answer because, like, it never occurred to me that I should. And he was pissed because he's been making Jean uncomfortable by accident this whole time, and he said it was cruel and I shouldn't have put him in that situation. And he's right. I don't know why I didn't...urgh. But that's not the worst of it. Then Courfeyrac tried to help, and he made it worse because when he was defending me he said 'of course 'Ferre wasn't going to talk about Jehan to the guy he was dating  _to get over_ Jehan.' Feuilly hadn't figured out that I was in love with Jehan yet. When Courfeyrac said that, everything went really quiet and Feuilly just stood up and he glared at me, and it was scarier even than when you do it. He said he was sick of being used by me and he stormed out of the cafe and he isn't answering calls or texts. I've really put my foot in it and I don't think there's a way to fix it because...because I actually really deserve this for being spineless and horrible."

"Well that's a bit much. I mean, I think your choices have been pretty lousy but it's not like you set out to hurt anybody." Enjolras hesitantly touched his arm, hoping the gesture somewhat conveyed the comfort he wanted to give. "Honestly, I think it's good that everything's out in the open now. When Feuilly calms down, the two of you can talk it over. Just make sure you're actually clear on what you want to do this time before you make any decisions."

"I know. And thank you. It really helps to have a dispassionate friend to talk this over with."

Enjolras' brow wrinkled. "I don't think anyone's ever called me dispassionate before."

"Well, you're certainly not dispassionate when it comes to social issues," Combeferre said with a smirk that was nice to see. He looked a little more normal and loads better for showing some amusement, even if it was at Enjolras' expense. "But when it comes to romantic stuff you always come across as a little distant and bewildered."

Enjolras laughed. "That's more than fair. I have no clue what the fuck I'm doing. Are you sure you want to take advice from me?"

"Eh, you and Grantaire are doing a lot better than you think. Besides, everyone else is all tangled up in the drama and freaking out. Your rationality is refreshing. I...I really don't want Feuilly to hate me. Like, even if a relationship doesn't turn out to be a great idea, I do want to be friends with him."

"Me too. He is very nice. If it weren't for poor Prouvaire I'd have been very happy to see the two of you dating. But I do think you're better off with Jehan. There's a lot of substance to that relationship, and you were pretty romantic for friends."

"Fair. Yeah, I really shouldn't have let this become such a mess."

They went out into the living room and opened the bags of snacks Enjolras had gotten from the convenience store. He noted with some satisfaction that the new moth book was open on the coffee table. 

"Have you thought about trying a poly arrangement, like Feuilly's roommates?" 

Combeferre frowned and shook his head. "I mean, I had thought about it, but I don't think it'd work. Jehan and Feuilly aren't attracted to each other, and besides that, I think trying to be emotionally intimate with two people at once would wreak havoc on Jean's nerves. He hides much more readily than he exposes his vulnerability to people, you know? But I do care for both of them so obviously it'd be ideal for me."

"I think I'm like Prouvaire when it comes to that. I don't know how Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet are managing so well. Relationships are so difficult. Just dating Grantaire is terrifying enough for me."

Combeferre was smirking at him again. "Yes, well...you're wired a bit differently than most. How is that going, anyway? As far as your friends can tell, you look like you're doing really great."

Enjolras lowered his head to hide his smile and nodded. "Yes...it's...it's going a lot better than I'd realized. He gets me so effortlessly. When I have bad days he helps me, and I do the same for him. The only issue is if we both have breakdowns at the same time, but that's only happened once so far."

"And not for nothing, but if it does happen again you could just lean on me or Courfeyrac until it's over. I'm sure Jean wouldn't mind seeing Grantaire through an episode either, and then the two of you can seek each other out when it passes and you're both rational again."

Enjolras looked up at his roommate and blinked a few times. Somehow, that thought had never occurred to him before. "You're right. We're both self-aware enough to recognize when we're having issues. We can just leave."

Combeferre smacked a hand over his face. "Oh my God. You're both endearingly stupid sometimes, you know that. Did that seriously not occur to you?"

"Shut up."

"In seriousness, I am very happy for you," Combeferre said. "I had my misgivings when you first started, but it's pretty obvious that you're actually very good for each other."

"If you don't mind my asking, just why were you so certain Grantaire was going to be a shitty boyfriend?" Enjolras asked. "Or were you thinking I was going to be shit at it? Or both, I suppose."

"It doesn't really matter. I was wrong about it, after all."

"I know. I'm just curious."

Combeferre shrugged. "Well, I figured you were going to set off each other's anxieties instead of helping each other stay grounded. And you're both so different. He mocks pretty much everything you really care about, although he's been doing less of it lately. I can't tell if you're winning him over on a few things or if he just doesn't get as much satisfaction out of annoying you as he used to. And then there's the drinking. You've never been quiet about how much mental baggage you're carrying from the alcoholics in your family, so I thought dating one was going to-"

"What do you mean?" Enjolras' brow knit together in confusion. "Grantaire's not an alcoholic."

Combeferre looked equally confused. He started to say something and then broke off, and then gave his head a sad shake. "Oh wow. Enjolras, have you honestly never noticed?"

He started to protest, but then his brain helpfully conjured images of the recycle bin in Grantaire's apartment always having at least a couple of wine boxes, empty bottles, and dozens of beer cans in it. When he had bad days the surfaces in the apartment would be littered with half finished drinks that probably should have been more than a couple days' accumulation, now that Enjolras thought about it. And he always had a few drinks when they were out with friends.

But Enjolras rarely saw him drunk, and he'd never seen Grantaire  _need_ a drink the way his parents always did. Was he hiding it better, or was he just high functioning?

"He's self-medicating. I never noticed..." Enjolras slowly brought his knees up to his chest and ducked his head. He didn't want to see the pity he knew would be written all over Combeferre's face.

"He must have been hiding it from you." The sympathy in Combeferre's voice cut more deeply than any mockery could have. Enjolras took a few deep breaths and then climbed to his feet.

"Okay, so I've fallen in love with an alcoholic. It's not a big deal. From what I've read, it's a behavior we adult children of alcoholics are prone to. And he's not, not much like my parents. For starters, he's successfully hidden everything from me for this long. There's that. He values me enough to not want to make me uncomfortable. And, you know, he won't necessarily get liver disease and still insist he doesn't have a drinking problem, or wrap a car around a light post, or...or..." Enjolras closed his eyes in a tight grimace.

"I mean he doesn't even drive," Combeferre said, trying and failing to be helpful. "I'm sorry. Enjolras, I'm so sorry. I'd thought you'd noticed."

"Does he talk about it when I'm not around? Does he at least know he's an alcoholic?"

"From what I can tell he's very different from your parents. He's not in denial about anything," Combeferre said. "He's made a few self-deprecating jokes about it but he's never said anything to me about it in seriousness."

Enjolras slowly nodded. He felt like it shouldn't matter. After all, he'd needed to be  _told_ that the man he'd fallen in love with had a drinking problem. If Combeferre hadn't clued him in, he might have gone months without figuring it out. 

But it did matter, and he was entirely off-balance. 

"I think I need to be alone for a little while. Are you going to be okay?" Enjolras asked.

Combeferre shrugged. "I can keep myself distracted with the moth book, I think. Good call, by the way."

"Yes, well I should hope by this phase of our friendship we know how to pick out books for each other. I'll just be in my room. Come and get me if you need me."

"Will do."

Enjolras turned on some music and then flopped onto his bed with his face pressed against his pillow. At least the ambiguity surrounding what part of a cycle he was in had disappeared. He had the itchy feeling under his skin that made him want to run laps around the neighborhood coupled with the useless sluggishness that would keep him in bed for days if he didn't force himself to get to class. He was definitely depressed.

He wanted to talk to Grantaire but he was also terrified of what he might say if he did. And then, just to make matters worse, his phone chimed with a text.

<Hey, how's Ferre doing?>

Enjolras' thumbs hovered over the screen for a long moment, unsure of what to text. He was still struggling with what to say when the screen switched to an incoming call from Grantaire. With a resigned sigh, he accepted the call. "Hey, R."

"Hey...you don't sound good. Um, was it that bad?"

"Ferre is his usual calm and collected self. He's upset but he's being very reasonable about it. I bought him a book on moths and he's distracting himself with that while he waits for Feuilly to start talking to him again."

"Oh. Well that's not too bad. I took Jean out for Fro-yo and he was even smiling a little when I walked him back to his house, so he's doing better. Did you want me to come over? Your voice is weak as shit. If you need me to hug you and tell you you're awesome for a few hours that is a sacrifice I'm totally willing to make."

Enjolras smiled in response to the joke, but it was a very weak smile. He did want Grantaire there but he knew he couldn't talk without fighting yet, and Grantaire would want to talk. He'd insist on it. "I'm all right, really."

"Horse shit. Enj, I know you too well for you to pull a fast one on me. What's up? I'm just going to worry if you don't tell me."

"It's...just a cycle thing. I think I'm going to stay in bed and hide until my first class."

"So do I not get to see you until Wednesday after school then? That's two days."

"You'll live."

"I haven't gone that long without seeing you once since we started dating."

Enjolras snorted. "Well get used to it, love, because we'll be going longer stretches than that once the workload intensifies."

"What if I bring you a coffee?" Grantaire used his best wheedling tone, which usually got him what he wanted. "You know the coffee at the Musain is better than anything you and Ferre brew at your apartment. I don't need to stay very long, just...when you sound all despondent and shit, it'd be nice to get to hug you."

"How do you always whine your way through my resolve like this?" Enjolras' comment was directed more to himself than anything. He brushed some hair out of his eyes and sat up in bed. "Fine, come over for a bit, but I need you to promise me something first."

"Anything."

Enjolras cringed. "Don't just blindly agree. I want you to process this. I'm not doing well. I know my emotions are all over the place and that I'm going to be kind of shitty. Please do not pry and needle at me and try to get me to talk right now. We can talk later. Now all I want is a hug and actually that coffee sounds like a really fucking good idea, but that's it, okay? I don't want to have a real fight. I can't handle that right now."

"Mm. All those imaginary fights you thought we've been having all week must have really worn you out. It's okay, Enj. I won't pester you. I just want a chance to try to cheer you up. I mean yeah, I know I can't fix a chemical imbalance in your brain, but I'm pretty sure I've gotten you to smile through some of that shit a few times so far."

"I've actually smiled a few times during this conversation. You're very good at it."

"Ah, it's nice to finally be good for something worthwhile. I'll see you in like twenty minutes."

"Okay. Love you."

There was a short pause before Grantaire answered, and when he did he sounded positively giddy. "I'd forgotten we were going to be saying that out loud now. I love you too. See you soon."

He hung up, and then Enjolras burrowed into his blankets. He was trembling all over and suppressing the urge to throw up from nerves. Yes, he desperately wanted to see Grantaire and be held by him and listen to soothing lies about how nothing was really wrong and that everything was going to be fine. But he was also terrified of blurting out what was on his mind. He curled into a near-fetal position facing the wall and let out a groan, sure that when he saw his boyfriend the ensuing fight wouldn't be imaginary.

* * *

Enjolras was still huddled under the blankets when he heard a tap on the door. He texted Grantaire to tell him to come in, then set his phone on the bedside table and pulled the blanket back over his head.

He heard the door creak open, then the soft sound of Grantaire's footsteps through the room. The smell of coffee tempted him enough to lower the blanket so that he could peer out into the room, but he only really had a view of the bedside table. He watched Grantaire set a tray of coffees next to the phone, then felt the mattress dip as Grantaire sat next to him. He waved at the little hole in the blanket. "You weren't kidding, huh?"

"Did you think I was?"

"Well, no. I guess I just didn't expect it to snowball this quickly. I mean, a couple hours ago we were naked and wonderful together, weren't we?"

Enjolras lowered the blankets a little more. He wanted the coffee, but he also wasn't crazy with the idea of sitting up. "What time is it anyway?" Come to think of it, it was probably too late for coffee. He had two eight am classes that semester and he needed to try to get his sleep schedule ready to accommodate them.

"Nine thirty. I got you half-caf." Grantaire grabbed him under the elbows, somehow figuring out exactly where they were despite the bulky blankets and Enjolras' slouchy, defeated posture, and hauled him up into a sitting position. He slid behind Enjolras so that he was acting as a pillow, and then pressed the medium to-go cup from the tray into his hand. "With your tolerance, that shouldn't have you wired or jittery. You should still be able to fall asleep tonight."

"Thank you." Enjolras took a sip of the coffee and then settled into Grantaire's arms. He let his eyes fall shut and let out a contented hum.

It was very nice. For a few minutes.

"So...I know you don't want to talk..."

"Mm hm." Enjolras stiffened a little, and took another long sip of the coffee.

"But you're starting to kick up my paranoia a little. Can you just answer one question for me, and then we'll go back to silent cuddles?"

Enjolras frowned and rubbed at his temple. He could feel a headache coming on. "I'd really rather not."

"It's just one thing, so that I don't start freaking out too."

"R, please. Just not now. I'm sure I'll be able to talk tomorrow."

"Shit. Okay, so I guess I just won't sleep tonight. It's fine. Not like I usually fucking sleep anyway."

"Grantaire." And yep, there was the headache. "Are you really pressuring me about this now? You promised not to. God, I thought you  _got_ what this was like."

"And I thought you got that I have shit self-esteem and that I get rattled easily. Look." Grantaire shifted, tightening his hold on Enjolras. He pressed his face into Enjolras' neck, and Enjolras could feel the way he was trembling. "I just want you to tell me you're not mad at me. I keep feeling like I fucked something up today, and you sounded really upset on the phone. I know it's like, just being upset in general, but I feel like you're upset with me in particular. You're not, right?"

"No..." That was probably the least convincing no Enjolras had ever uttered. It did nothing to reassure Grantaire, whose death-grip cuddle instantly relaxed as he started to shift away. 

Enjolras put the cup back in the tray and turned to face Grantaire, who was now so far down the bed from him that they weren't touching at all. "I'm not mad at you, R."

"But you're upset with me. Fuck. I did do something, didn't I? What did I do? Is it because I got mad over your not-quite-jealousy stuff with Jehan, or did I say something shitty about Combeferre? I don't think I did. It wasn't the sex, right? Because I thought that was one of our better romps in the sack, but if I teased you too much you can tell me. I'll shut up next time, if there is a next time. I can keep my babbling to myself, I promise I-"

"Grantaire!" Enjolras darted forward and pressed a hand over his mouth. "Will you stop, please? I love you. I'm not mad, I promise. The sex was great, I feel loved and supported by you, and there's nothing logical in the way I feel right now. It's a chemical fucking imbalance. It is not your fault."

Grantaire's expression looked pained. He slowly nodded, and Enjolras took his hand away from his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's...it is what it is." Enjolras scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you came over though. Maybe, maybe we should talk. I don't want you to get paranoid and worried on my account."

"Great. So I fucking pressured you with my bullshit. That's not fair either."

Enjolras flinched. He pulled the blankets up over his shoulders and eyed Grantaire warily. "What do you want from me right now?"

"I want you to tell me you're not upset with me-"

"I just did-"

"And for you to  _mean_ it."

Enjolras closed his eyes. He took a few slow breaths, and then he looked at Grantaire again. "I'm not mad at you, but I am upset."

"And it's more than the depression." There wasn't a hint of a question in Grantaire's voice.

"I guess. Um, okay...well, we've never really talked about our families before, right? Just a, a few hints here and there that they're less than spectacular." Enjolras paused for a second, wondering how to word this. He still hadn't really had enough time to process this for himself. Conveying this to Grantaire was going to be tricky. "Practically my whole family is made up of alcoholics. I told you that I don't drink because I don't want to be like them. Well, there's a little more to it than that. Until I met Courfeyrac and saw someone who was able to drink without turning into a raging asshole, I didn't even want to be around alcohol. I get triggered when I'm around people who drink to excess. It's something that I've been working on. Anyway, that's one of the reasons I'm uncomfortable at parties. Just the smell of one of my parents' preferred beverages makes me twitchy."

"I mean I'd picked up on some of that," Grantaire said. "That's why I try not to drink around you."

"And I appreciate it so, so much." Enjolras grasped his hands. "Really, I do. Once I stopped to think about it I noticed. But you do drink a lot, don't you?"

Grantaire let out a hollow laugh. "Pretty much every night we don't spend together I get blackout drunk. I'm probably worse than your parents."

Enjolras shook his head. "No, I don't believe that."

"Are your folks really that bad?"

"I don't know if your drinking is more severe than them, but you could never be worse than them because...because you'd never hurt me."

"Fuck." Grantaire pulled Enjolras close, hugging him tightly enough to hurt. "No, I never,  _never_ would. Not on purpose, anyway. I can't believe you have that kind of faith in me. I haven't done anything to deserve that yet. I'm still fucking kicking myself for Christmas, and yelling at you and taking off like that and then you just like...forgave me. You literally saved my life the night we met and all I ever do is fuck up and nag at you. I won't be like your parents, I swear."

"I didn't think you were. R? You're crushing me."

"Sorry."

"Hey, I didn't say let go." Enjolras fit himself snugly into Grantaire's embrace and tucked his head under his chin. "I hadn't really thought about your drinking until I heard someone use the term alcoholic to describe you. It shook me a little, because I've never had an alcoholic in my life who didn't mistreat me. If I was having a strong day it wouldn't have hit me as hard. You've done a good job hiding the drinking from me. I hadn't realized you drank more than Courfeyrac or Bahorel until I really thought about it."

"I might be able to stop. It's self-medicating, honestly. When I'm alone I feel like shit, and when I feel like shit I drink so I feel less shitty. I don't feel that way most of the time anymore." He shifted so he could press a kiss to Enjolras' head. "For the past few months I've been wrestling with this strange notion that were I to drink myself to death, there's actually someone out there who would miss me. And for the past few weeks it's seemed less and less baffling to me. Like, I still have those nights where I'm tempted, but when I get to that point I, like look at our pictures or listen to a song that makes me think of you, or I look through our old texts or even just fucking call you. Everything's changed now. I feel like I have a future now."

As reassuring as a lot of that was, Enjolras still felt a cold dread hearing Grantaire lay out his suicidal thoughts like that. He didn't want to be the only thing keeping Grantaire going. Sometimes he could barely keep himself going, let alone anyone else. He wasn't sure he was up to the task of being Grantaire's sole savior.

Enjolras bit back on that uncomfortable emotion and leaned up for a quick kiss. "My phone will always be on for you. I love you so much, Grantaire. It'd destroy me to lose you now."

"This conversation got really heavy, didn't it? I swear, I did come over here planning to respect your wishes and just cuddle you and try to make you smile. Sorry."

Enjolras kissed him again. "It's okay. I was going to talk to you about this eventually anyway, and you didn't trigger anything so I think we can call this a win. I think we'll both start worrying over nonexistent problems if we're left alone though. You're going to have to sleep over." Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire's waist and nuzzled against him. 

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll have to man up and take my punishment." He poked Enjolras' side. "You always let me off so light. Someday you really are going to have to lay into me when I fuck up. I really deserve it, at this point."

"Eh. Someday you'll have to stop and reflect that you're actually a really good boyfriend and that you've substantially improved my life in return."

"When pigs fly, maybe."

"Grantaire? Less banter. More stroking my hair and snuggling, okay? And if you must banter, I'd prefer if you'd stick to telling me how much you love me. We've had enough of the heavy stuff for one day."

"Yes sir, o terrifyingly adorable one."

"Mm... much better."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Last week was inordinately shitty. I've got some things to work out with my writing again. I'm also going to try to squeeze out some updates on the old fics that have just kind of been hanging unresolved (I say that a lot though, so don't get too excited. My muses don't often cooperate when I try to jump in again after having left something sitting for too long).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer to write than intended. Sorry about that :(

"Wait a minute, you already have  _how_ many papers assigned?"

"Seven," Enjolras answered, turning an amused smirk on his distraught looking boyfriend. "To be fair, three of them are meant to be semester long research projects, but the other four are due by Monday morning. So if you please, I'd best get back to work."

Grantaire still looked flabbergasted. "The semester started yesterday."

"It did."

"And you already have...?"

"Three reading response papers, one personal essay, and three semester long research projects, yes. Now stop pestering me. I can take a reading break when I get to this post-it." He flicked a little blue one sticking out of the side of his book and then determinedly fixed his eyes on the page. He'd instituted a new color-coding system for the semester, and the blue post-its were now boyfriend-breaks.

"Better leave him to it, R. After a certain point he switches from asking you to shut up to kicking your shins," Courfeyrac said.

The friends were once more gathered at their favorite cafe, Enjolras and Prouvaire crouched over their books while Courfeyrac and Grantaire took a more casual approach to their first assignments. Combeferre hadn't shown up yet, and no one was sure if that was due to him not wanting to bump into Prouvaire, taking a late class, or being busy elsewhere, and no one was asking about it either. Enjolras was fairly certain his friends were all as curious as he was, despite their silence.

He hoped Combeferre was talking things out with Feuilly, and that he'd be joining them shortly, but he wasn't confident that was the case. Combeferre's reluctance to face difficult situations was what had gotten everything to this point, after all.

Enjolras tried to put that mess out of his mind and bring his attention back to his reading, where it belonged. He managed to get another five pages of his assignment read before Grantaire once again intruded on his academic nerdery. "Enj, I'm going up to get another drink. Want anything?"

"Hm? No, I've still got some tea left."

"We could split a cookie or something."

"I'm fine, Grantaire. Please leave me be. I need to focus on this." He firmly kept his gaze on the book until Grantaire had shuffled a good distance away from the table, then he snuck a peek over the top of the book to confirm what he already suspected. Grantaire was visibly sulking, and looked very put-upon when he went to order from the barista. "I warned him as thoroughly as I could."

"To be fair, your overachieving does need to be seen to be believed," Prouvaire said with a smile.

"He'll get used to it," Courfeyrac added. "I don't doubt you warned him as well as you could, but he probably didn't realize he's only your mistress and that nasty books on the injustices of the world are your one true love."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. He knew his friends were only teasing. The problem was, he was worried Grantaire really did think something like that. Enjolras loved studying and was a passionate nerd, but he was also deeply in love with his boyfriend. He was hoping they'd achieve a balance, and terrified they wouldn't.

He read through another five pages, which had him within two of the post-it. Enjolras was looking forward to it. He was hoping to spend part of the break discussing what he'd read with Prouvaire, which should help him sharpen his ideas in preparation to write the paper. Grantaire would be a good ear too; he was obviously more cynical than Enjolras, but nearly as well read and always with an interesting point of view for Enjolras to consider.

Then he realized Grantaire still hadn't returned to the table with his drink. It must have been at least twenty minutes. Enjolras scanned the cafe, and saw Grantaire leaning against the counter chatting with Louison. He scowled, and turned back to his reading.

So if he didn't give Grantaire constant attention, he was going to pester the barista while she tried to work. Great. Peachy. 

"Everything okay, Enjolras?" And now his friends were staring at him.

"Sorry, just having a hard time concentrating." Involuntarily, his eyes darted towards the counter. Yep, still flirting with the barista.

 _Talking_. Grantaire was talking to her. 

And yet again, Enjolras was creating a fight where there didn't need to be one. Hadn't he wanted Grantaire to do something to amuse himself so he could get his work done? He closed his eyes, took a few steady, measured breaths, and tried to focus on his reading again. Just two more pages and then he could take a break and go talk to his boyfriend.

The last two pages before the post-it went by at a snail's pace. Enjolras had to keep rereading sentences, as nothing would stick in his brain. He kept realizing he was trying to hear across the cafe, that he wanted to zero in on where Grantaire was. He stubbornly forced his attention to where it was supposed to be, and didn't notice when Grantaire returned to his chair until the man planted his head on Enjolras' shoulder and whined at him.

"Aren't you done  _yet_? I swear, you're usually a faster reader than this."

"I've just got three paragraphs left. Grantaire, get off. You're distracting me."

"You've been going slow on purpose, haven't you? It's a punishment for my nagging."

"He'd have been going at a nice, brisk pace if he hadn't been glaring at you every two minutes or so," Courfeyrac said cheerfully. Enjolras kicked him under the table. "Fuck! Ah, see! That's what happens when you mess with him when he's studying. You get kicked in the fucking shins. Enjolras, I think you took some skin off with that one."

Grantaire started twirling a strand of Enjolras' hair around his finger. "Don't abuse your friends, Enj. If you're going to whack anyone's shins tonight it should be me. I'm being a needy pain in the ass."

"True enough. I want to get my readings finished so that I can pay  _some_ attention to you later tonight."

"I like the sound of that. You sure you don't want another coffee?"

Enjolras considered the tea he'd been drinking. Even his best case scenario had him up until at least midnight, so another coffee probably wasn't actually a bad idea. It was only seven o'clock. "Yes please."

"Be back in a minute." Grantaire kissed his cheek, then went back to the counter. Enjolras shot another glare at Courfeyrac and then very determinedly held his book over his face.

"I ought to kick you in the shin," Courfeyrac muttered.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Courfeyrac, dear, you are the one who always sits across from him," Prouvaire observed. "Perhaps since he's never once kicked me we should consider a different seating arrangement?" 

"He'd just slouch down in his seat and reach around you to get at me. Or come up with a more dastardly punishment."

Enjolras leaned up for a quick kiss when he took his coffee from Grantaire. "Out of curiosity, don't you have any assignments you should be working on?"

"I'm not quite the honors student you are. I just had to shit out an introductory personal essay for my writing class and skim the intro chapter of my bio textbook. Based on my syllabuses, the real work isn't going to start for a week or two." Grantaire tapped Enjolras' book. "Your classes hit the ground running though, huh?"

"To be fair, Enjolras is at a different point in his course of study than you are," Prouvaire said. "You're still taking intro level required classes because you're going to transfer to our school, right? Enjolras and I are juniors in the honors program. Our classes are meant to be more difficult and time consuming than yours."

"Fair enough." Grantaire took his phone from his pocket. "I'll try to keep myself amused."

"I just need another minute or two, R."

"Yeah, yeah...oh fucking rad! Courf, a new tour was just announced."

"Shit, really?" Courfeyrac got up from his seat and swung a chair around to Grantaire's side of the table so he could peer at his phone. "Are they coming here or are we going to have to commute and couch hop?"

"Commute and couch hop anyway because there's no way I'm only doing one show this time. Hold on, I'm looking...two shows in Boston, tickets go on sale on Friday."

"Fuck yes! They sold out last time. Maybe we'll get a third show added later."

Enjolras willed his way to his post-it mandated break while Courfeyrac and Grantaire were geeking out over their favorite band's tour announcement. He set his book on the table, then tapped Grantaire's shoulder. "When are they playing Boston?"

"Huh?"

"Your band. If they're going to be here before summer break then I need some time to plan my schedule. Especially if they have the poor sense of timing that will bring them around during midterms or finals."

Grantaire's mouth hung open while he stared at Enjolras in an endearingly flabbergasted manner. "Y-you want to go to the show with me? You never go to shows."

Enjolras could feel his face color a little. "I'd just kind of assumed that, I mean, this fan community you have is important to you. If you don't want me to-"

"Shut up. Of course I want you there. I just didn't think it'd be your scene. You know, small crowded room full of sweaty people banging into each other and screaming...it, uh, doesn't seem very Enjolras to me."

Jehan's face twisted up in dislike. "It sounds like a form of  _torture_. Why would you willingly go to something like that, let alone seek it out?"

"I think you'd have to be there to get it," Courfeyrac said, once he'd finished giggling at Prouvaire's obvious distaste.

"Well, I intend to be there," Enjolras said. He turned to Prouvaire. "I'll let you know if I figure out the appeal." He squeezed Grantaire's hand underneath the table, and was treated to one of his rare unguarded smiles.

For the rest of the night, Grantaire was much better about being ignored in favor of books and papers.

* * *

 <You up?>

Enjolras stared at his phone, a bit puzzled by the text. Then he realized that it was four in the morning, and he understood the validity of the question. He snapped a picture of the pile of books on his desk and sent it to his boyfriend as a reply. He followed it up by asking why Grantaire still was.

<Dunno. Can't sleep. Been trying. Got a sec or do you need to slay book mountain?>

It actually wasn't quite a book mountain yet, but it would be if he didn't keep chipping away at it. Still though, he had been getting ready to wind down for the night, which was wise considering four was pushing it, even when his earliest class wasn't until ten. <If you need me I'm here, but I should probably get ready for bed.>

<Kk. Can we hang tomorrow? Haven't really seen you all week.>

Enjolras frowned. They'd seen each other at the Musain every day after their classes finished. Of course, sitting next to each other and chatting for ten or fifteen minutes every couple of hours probably wasn't enough social stimulation for Grantaire. Enjolras made arrangements to meet him at his apartment after his last class finished, then set his phone on his nightstand and got ready for bed.

* * *

Grantaire did not look well when Enjolras showed up on his doorstep the following evening.

He had deep smudges under his eyes and his skin had a sort of yellow-ish tint that Enjolras didn't remember being quite so pronounced the previous night. Of course, the Musain's lighting wasn't the best in the world, something he and the bookworms grumbled about sometimes when they felt eyestrain and reading headaches coming on.

"Did you manage to sleep at all last night?" Enjolras asked, startled into skipping over a greeting entirely. Grantaire frowned at him and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"A little. C'mon up. Um, I...yeah. I'll put on water for tea or something."

Enjolras trailed after him, surprised by how badly things were already going. It was the end of the very first week of classes, and Grantaire was moody, withdrawn, and not sleeping. They were never going to get through the semester if things continued like this.

He took off his jacket but kept his hoodie on when they got upstairs, and settled onto the futon while Grantaire was busy in the second room. "Did you want tea or cocoa? That's pretty much all I've got right now."

"Tea," Enjolras called. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders, then opened his gender and sexuality textbook and started reading. Immersed in a chapter on birth control, he didn't notice Grantaire return to the room until he spoke.

"Oh. You're getting right to the studying again, huh?" He was awkwardly hovering in front of the futon with two full mugs.

Enjolras marked his place and then looked up. "Is that okay? I want to give you more attention than I've managed at the Musain, but I still need to get my work done tonight. It's so easy to fall behind, and if that happens I might not be able to see you at all."

"You know, your behavior last week is starting to make a lot more sense. Like, when we met I did see you struggling like crazy with the schoolwork and stuff, so I thought I was ready, but this is...wow. I really thought I actually knew how hard you worked."

Enjolras snorted. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe it myself. R, sit down. Let's talk a little first." Enjolras shoved his book into his backpack, and Grantaire carefully sat down beside him, then set the mugs on a stack of art books beside the mattress. Enjolras immediately tucked himself into Grantaire's arms and let his eyes drift shut. "I probably should have called you when you texted me last night, huh?"

"To be fair, technically I texted you this morning. It was a stupid time to need attention from you."

"I was still up. Besides, I want to be there when you really need me, not just when it's convenient for me."

Grantaire stroked Enjolras' hair with careful, controlled motions. He was still tense, but Enjolras could feel him gradually starting to relax. "I feel like I'm fucking this up already."

"You're not. This is the thing we need to keep doing. Remember, you said it yourself last week? We just need to make sure we keep talking to each other. We can keep each other grounded. We can..." Enjolras trailed off. He'd grabbed Grantaire's arm intending to position it more securely around himself, and Grantaire had winced and let out a quiet hiss of pain he might have missed if he hadn't been sitting pressed against him. "Gr-Grantaire?"

"It's nothing." Grantaire snatched his arm away from Enjolras, shoved him away, and all but leaped off the mattress. He was pacing around the room before Enjolras could collect himself.

So last night was worse than he'd realized. That much was painfully clear. Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to make sure he got the right message through. He wanted Grantaire to call him when he needed him, but only when he really did. Enjolras needed some boundaries in place for his own mental well being, and besides that, if he gave Grantaire too much of his time, the quality of the time they spent together would suffer. Neither of them would be helped if Enjolras stressed himself to the point that he was constantly breaking down.

"Grantaire, please come here and talk to me."

"I just need a second." His voice was shaky from a bad attempt at suppressing emotion.

"You don't need to hide from me," Enjolras said, careful to keep his tone quiet and calm. "You must know that I'm the last person on earth who will judge you for self-harm."

"I...uh, look." Grantaire stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. "You warned me this was coming, I didn't take it seriously enough, and now that it's barely fucking started I keep worrying about what it's going to be like during midterms, during finals, when you're freaking out and I'm freaking out and it's all going to shit on every end. I thought we were supporting each other but I've just been leaning on you and it's not fair. You shouldn't have to drop everything and run to my aid when I'm having a bad night. I should be able to get through a bad night on my own. This is fucking ridiculous."

"Grantaire, I know what I signed up for when I started dating you." Enjolras patted the mattress beside him. "Now come here. Last night didn't go well, so let's figure out what we're going to do to keep it from happening again."

"O-okay." Grantaire sat down on the mattress again, but he rested his elbows on his knees and kept his head down. "I'm sorry."

Enjolras wasn't sure what to say. Grantaire apologized an awful lot; it seemed to be his default to just assume he was in the wrong somehow. Enjolras didn't want to keep reinforcing that feeling, but it felt like his attempts at reassurance were starting to turn into meaningless platitudes. He shifted a little closer towards Grantaire and lightly touched his arm. "I'd like to see what you did, if that's okay."

"I'd rather you didn't."

Enjolras let out a sharp breath, closed his eyes and counted to three, then tried again. "Please give me something to work with so that I don't worry. Are the cuts very deep?"

"Nah, just some scratches on my forearm. Honestly, I wish I'd have cut a little deeper. The shallow ones are like paper cuts so they always sting the worst. I'm not helping, am I?"

Enjolras realized his mouth was hanging open. He quickly closed it and gave himself a little shake. "I, um...I've actually never cut before. I...I do the food thing, where I don't let myself eat. And I stay up too late, and sometimes I punch walls."

"You punch walls?" Grantaire finally sat up a little and actually looked at him. 

"I've got a temper," Enjolras muttered. "I don't like the feel of bruised knuckles as much as Bahorel, but sometimes it does make me feel...I don't know. Not better, exactly. Present in a way I'm not sometimes, I guess. It's probably the closest experience I've got to relate to your cutting. Anyway, I've pretty much stopped doing it. It was one thing when I lived with my parents, but now I've got a security deposit to worry about." And a roommate that he cared about scaring. He was never going to forget the wide eyed look of terror on Combeferre's face the one time he'd really lost his temper in front of him.

"Uh, so, so like how you have the thing with...with drinking being a problem because of your, like, family shit? Um..." Grantaire chewed on his lip, and then forced himself to continue. "My dad had meltdowns. He breaks furniture, doors, and he punches so many holes in the walls it's a good thing he's got drinking buddies who are contractors. They always find someone to patch the shit up for him. But yeah, Mom stopped buying nice coffee tables after awhile. They just don't last."

"Has he ever...did he ever hit-"

"No!" Grantaire finally met his eyes. His face was hard to read, but Enjolras thought he believed him. "That's why he breaks  _stuff_. He has a temper, but he'd never hurt us. It's just, you know...it used to really scare me when I was a kid. I get jumpy sometimes when people go off, that's all."

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hand and carefully twined their fingers together. "That sounds perfectly valid. If it helps, I've only ever hit walls too. And I've made an effort to stop. I promise to be even more careful when we're together."

"Enj, it's not like-"

"You've modified your drinking for my comfort."

"This is different. It's not like drinking to excess is  _good_ for me or anything."

"And punching walls is good for me?"

Grantaire pressed his lips together. "You're frustratingly clever sometimes, you know that?"

"You're trying to say you'd rather I not modify my behavior for your comfort, and I suspect it's because you don't think you're worth the effort. But you are. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, R." Enjolras leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "That's actually the opposite of what I'm going for, being your boyfriend and all."

Enjolras had thought that might finally get Grantaire to smile. He was attempting to lighten the conversation (and to be perfectly honest, he wasn't thrilled with the idea of lingering on his outbursts of temper as a conversation topic). Instead, it looked like Grantaire was fighting some kind of inner conflict. He kept pressing his lips together, brow furrowed over lowered eyes. Finally, he silently rolled back his sleeve. "It's really not, not terrible. I've done worse."

The criss-cross of light cuts over his forearm certainly weren't as drastic as anything Enjolras had pictured, though he did find their presence cause for concern. They also looked a little puffy and irritated. "You should probably switch into a short sleeved t-shirt, R. Did you put anything on the cuts? Neosporin or something?"

"I suppose I could give them another spray with the disinfecting stuff. You're not...like, upset with me?"

Enjolras gave Grantaire's hand another tight squeeze. "I just want you to be okay. Cutting isn't ideal, obviously, but I'm not mad at you for it."

"Kay. I, I'm really sorry for fucking up. I swear, this is the happiest I've ever been. I've got friends now, somehow I've even got  _you_. I don't know why I can't just enjoy it."

"I understand. Don't worry about it." Enjolras leaned forward and kissed him. "For what it's worth, when I'm not feeling anxious or depressed, this is the happiest I've been too."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

Grantaire finally smiled, and Enjolras felt the knots of tension his stomach had twisted themselves into start to finally loosen. "True enough. I can't see you lying to make me feel better. Um, you should probably get to work on your reading. I'll give the cuts another clean and then set up as your study pillow, I guess."

A few minutes later, Enjolras was comfortably settled draped over his boyfriend. Grantaire alternated between reading his own book and absently playing with Enjolras' hair. Enjolras took comfort in the evenness of Grantaire's breathing while they were curled against each other, relieved at the absence of any anxious tics. He quietly determined to keep Grantaire from the kind of headspace that ended in self-harm.

He wasn't quite sure how to accomplish such a lofty goal, but that didn't make it any less worth setting.

* * *

 As it was very much book-glued-to-nose season, Enjolras found himself frustratingly out of the loop when it came to his roommate. For the first two weeks of the semester he didn't even see Combeferre. They were on completely different schedules, and besides that, Combeferre had stopped going to the Musain and Enjolras himself had cut back on their favorite study spot, in favor of spending some of his study hours with his boyfriend.

Of the members of the love triangle, he was only really seeing Prouvaire, which was not the best way to try to gather information. Jehan was intensely private and never willingly discussed topics relating to his love life. All Enjolras could make from seeing him at the Musain was that he seemed happy and unusually confident.

That  _could_ be seen as evidence he was involved in a new and fulfilling relationship, but that also wouldn't explain Combeferre's absence, so Enjolras deemed it unlikely that they'd started dating.

Meanwhile, he was seeing a new side of his boyfriend starting to emerge, and he definitely liked it. The band wasn't coming around until June, safely after the end of the semester, but Grantaire was visibly brightened for having his shows to look forward to. Enjolras remembered that when they'd met, Grantaire had said he'd probably be doing better if the band were on tour, but he'd taken that as an exaggeration. As it turned out, Grantaire wasn't exaggerating his obsession with his favorite band in the least.

"A lot of the fans talk about the shows as being better than therapy," Courfeyrac said simply, one afternoon at the Musain when Enjolras commented on it. "Obviously I've never struggled as much as R, but I can totally see that angle. I do feel lighter after a good show. Screaming together and dancing with everyone, it just...it's hard to describe. You'll get it when you see it."

"I guess."

Enjolras just took it as a given that his apartment would be empty when he got home from the Musain. Combeferre would either be passed out in his room with the door locked, or wherever else it was he'd taken to studying. He wouldn't see him in the morning, since Enjolras' first class was two hours before Combeferre's, but he might see a rinsed out coffee mug in the strainer when he ran home after classes to switch his books out before heading to Grantaire's. The coffee mugs in the strainer were pretty much his only indication that Combeferre hadn't been kidnapped.

All things considered, it seemed pretty safe to bring his boyfriend home with him.

Grantaire had brought a concert DVD with him, so they put that in and watched it together. It was actually Enjolras' first time hearing any of the songs Grantaire and Courfeyrac obsessed over. He'd always meant to look them up or borrow some CDs but had never gotten around to it. The concert they'd filmed had been a special occasion, a large arena show. According to Grantaire, usually the band played much smaller venues. He talked about a feeling of community and connection with the people around you, but he also talked about being packed together against the stage, "throwing elbows," (a term Enjolras was going to have to look up later but decidedly did not like the sound of), and getting kicked in the head by steel toed boots when people crowd-surfed.

"Also, for some reason people are losing their shit during one of the slow songs. I don't know what it is about mandolins lately, but I got knocked to the ground last show. My buddy Matt helped me up, but it was still really weird. Some songs you expect to have to guard and throw elbows for, but not the folksy ones."

"Uh huh..." The concert was starting to sound more like a protest-turned-riot than an amusing past time. Enjolras had plenty of experience with protests, but as he lived in Massachusetts they tended to be well-organized, permitted events with local government and law enforcement participation. He'd never taken part in anything that got rowdy.

"Enj...you don't have to go if you don't want to. I understand that it's not everyone's scene, and even though the shows help my mental health it doesn't mean they'd help yours. It looks like the opposite, honestly. You're all tense." Grantaire leaned closer and started rubbing Enjolras' shoulders. "Is this even doing anything? I've never tried to massage anyone before."

"Honestly, no. But I certainly don't mind having your hands on me."

"Hm...I think we've watched enough of this concert." Grantaire turned off the television, then tossed the remote across the room and pulled Enjolras onto his lap.

Laughing, Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire's neck and dropped a quick kiss on the end of his nose. "You're ridiculous, you know."

"Look, just because _you_ can turn your sex drive off at the start of a new semester..." Grantaire started to grumble, but he trailed off when Enjolras started kissing along his jawline. His hands snuck underneath Enjolras' shirt and started wandering up and down his back. "You've been all no-touching lately. I missed you."

"Mm, I can feel that. Also, I haven't switched my sex-drive _off_. I've been exercising self-control. It's not the same thing." It was actually really frustrating him to spend so much time studying while also cuddling his boyfriend. His schoolwork satisfied him intellectually, but working on it with Grantaire close enough to feel his breath on his skin was the worst distraction he'd ever felt. For the first couple of days the sexual frustration had slowed his pace significantly, but he'd turned it into motivation. He'd never craved free-time quite like this before.

"R, I'm caught up on all of my assignments, it's a Friday night, and my absentee roommate is yet again not around."

"Ah. So we're done with pants for the weekend?"

Enjolras grinned and set to work on helping Grantaire out of his clingy skinny jeans. He slid off the couch and dropped to his knees, positioning himself between Grantaire's legs.

Of course, the front door opened just as Enjolras was tossing Grantaire's boxer-briefs aside. Grantaire had just enough time to rip off his hooded sweatshirt and throw it over his lap before Combeferre and Prouvaire walked into the room.

"Hello, Enjol...oh. Oh wow." Prouvaire's voice trailed off and he started edging towards the door again.

"Really, guys? Does communal space mean nothing to you," Combeferre said. "That couch used to belong to my grandmother."

"It, uh...takes some effort to get into those jeans. Do you guys mind just stepping into the hallway for just a second?" Grantaire's face was bright red. Enjolras was a bit surprised he even managed to squeeze the words out.

Prouvaire was out of the room in a second, but Combeferre took a bit longer, as he seemed to feel the need to glare at Enjolras some more before complying.

Grantaire shimmied back into his underwear and jeans and then immediately started scraping his thumbnail over the palm of his other hand in a compulsive, nervous gesture. Enjolras gave his shoulder a squeeze. "That was my fault. I'm sorry. I was sure we'd be alone."

"Yeah, well, 'Ferre's right. We should go into your room if we're going to lose our pants. I, uh...yeah. I'll just wait for you in there." He was slouched down with his shoulders hunched when he trudged out of the room. Enjolras frowned, then went into the hallway to apologize to his friends.

Well, he meant to apologize, but the first thing out of his mouth was rather accusative. "Grantaire's really embarrassed. I know I messed up, but you can't really blame me for thinking we'd be alone. You haven't been around for weeks." Okay, it was completely accusative.

Combeferre crossed his arms over his chest, visibly annoyed. "I've been here every damn day, Enjolras. We just haven't been crossing paths. It doesn't usually happen to this extent, but it's not exactly unusual given our workloads. Please tell me you and Grantaire haven't been screwing on every available surface just because I'm not in your immediate vicinity."

"'Ferre-" Prouvaire started, but stopped when he saw Enjolras' expression.

"Kindly go fuck yourself. If you'll excuse me, I have to go talk my boyfriend down from his panic attack." He threw another withering glare at them before he stormed off.

As expected, Grantaire was indeed curled into a blanket burrito on the bed, facing the wall. Enjolras sat down beside him and trailed a hand down his back. "Hey."

"I, um...so the scorn of our friends killed my boner."

"I noticed. It's okay, R. We can just hang out in here. I'm completely caught up on my assignments and ahead in one class. We have all weekend together." He managed to tug the blankets loose enough to curl in behind Grantaire and wrap his arms around him, which was a good sign. The panic wasn't too bad if the blanket-burrito was loose enough to admit an extra person. "I can go get your DVD from the living room and we can watch the concert in full this time. Would you like that?"

"Yes please. Enj...thanks for putting up with me."

"I don't put up with-"

"Don't question it this time. Just, thank you. You have no idea what it means that I get to be my crazy self and...and you're still here."

Enjolras gave him a tight squeeze. "Actually, I think I know exactly how you feel. I'll be right back."

Combeferre was actually spraying the couch while Prouvaire looked on in disapproval when Enjolras got back into the living room. "What are you doing?" Enjolras snapped.

"Sanitizing."

"Antagonizing your roommate in a sad attempt to deflect your attention from what's actually upsetting you," Prouvaire muttered. Apparently he thought he'd spoken low enough for Enjolras to miss him, because he jumped when Enjolras addressed him.

"What are you even doing here, Jehan? I'd thought you two were avoiding each other."

"We had been," Prouvaire admitted. "But we've been talking online for a week or so, and Combeferre asked me if I wanted to come round tonight and try and settle things. We seem to have picked a bad time."

Enjolras ejected the DVD and stuck it in the case. "We've relocated. The apartment is all yours. By all means, sort yourselves out."

"Um, Enjolras...how is R?" Now it was Prouvaire who looked fidgety. "I feel a bit bad about barging in on you when, um...it's just he said he's been missing his intimacy with you. Watching you study isn't quite..."

"Yeah. Believe me, I've been working on it." He threw a wry smirk Combeferre's way. "And I promise not to give in to my baser urges in communal spaces again."

"See that you don't." Combeferre's tone had lightened considerable. It sounded like he was teasing. He and Enjolras traded a look, with an understanding that they'd be talking in the morning.

Perhaps he should have been making more of an effort for his roommate and ostensible best friend as well as his boyfriend.

Feeling conflicted, and a bit ashamed of himself, Enjolras retreated to his room with the DVD.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so when I started writing this fic I was initially inspired by something that had happened in one of my internet fan communities. I used my music fandom instead of my comic fandom when writing the story, to give it some comforting fictionalized distance, and now I've decided to give the fandom a more prominent role in the fic by having them go to a show. I've been playing with whether or not to specify which band I've got in mind, because keeping it open lets you substitute in a fave of your own if you want, but now that they're going to a show I'm probably going to have to commit to saying who it is.
> 
> It's Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls. I imagine that's probably going to be impossible to hide when I write the next chapters. Also, I'm already giggling at the image of my stuffy little fanon version of Enjolras at a show. Should be fun :)


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